


Family is More than Blood

by Cinlat



Series: Meet Me On The Battlefield [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Action/Adventure, Backstory, Bounty Hunters, Character Death, Companionable Snark, Drama, Even tempered Sith, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Game Spoilers, Havoc Squad - Freeform, Headcanon, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Inappropriate Humor, Interspecies Relationship(s), Knights of the Fallen Empire Spoilers, Lots of explosions, Luck is the only thing that keeps these people alive, Mandalorian, Mando'a, Multi, Occasional fluff, Old Republic Era, Possible Character Death, Retelling, SWTOR, Sexual Tension, Shadow of Revan, Sporadic use of the Force. Eventually., blaster fights, minor character gets promoted to main character, smidgen of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-22 08:16:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 56
Words: 273,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8279158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinlat/pseuds/Cinlat
Summary: "Today is a good day for someone else to die." That had become the traditional battle cry for Havoc Squad whenever they faced insurmountable odds.  Usually accompanied by, "I'll be sore tomorrow." What else can be expected when a Mandalorian is given command of Havoc Squad?





	1. Honesty & Trust

**Author's Note:**

> It is my personal opinion that the trooper storyline has the most potential to be something fantastic in the SWTOR game. Out of all the classes, I keep going back to that one (I've played through it way too many times to be healthy) and got the idea about two years ago that I wanted to know what happened between missions. That being said, the Mandalorian culture has always piqued my interest and there was nothing by way of background on the "commander" of Havoc Squad, so I figured, why not?
> 
> I have no idea how long this story will end up being and I will veer wildly from canon from time to time for the sake of keeping things interesting. Otherwise, I tried to remain as true to the story as possible without just copying it down. I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
>  
> 
> Mando'a Language resources: mandoa. org & Glossary from Karen Traviss's Republic Commando series. I'll also include the translations in the notes at the end.

**Command Center  
** **Fort Garnik**  
**42 hours after arrival on Ord Mantell**

Fynta Wolfe had little time to come to grips with her uncanny promotion.  _Lieutenant_ , she thought as she found the room where she had stashed her rucksack two long days ago and checked to make sure everything was still there. Once satisfied she made for the exit, happy to be rid of this place. So far Fynta had been shot, blown up, betrayed, and promoted. It was a hell of a day. Leaning against the wall just outside, Fynta slid down slowly, eventually coming to rest on the ground, and relished the peace while she waited on Jorgan. Just when she'd started earning some points with the guy, they had to pull this osik, it was cruel, even for the army.

Light was just starting to peak over the horizon when Jorgan nudged her foot with his boot. Fynta gave a start, not realizing she'd dozed off. He offered her his hand and pulled Fynta to her feet. "Need to get that looked at as soon as we are aboard the shuttle," Jorgan said, nodding to the wall where her reopened shoulder wound had left a nasty looking blood stain all the way down to the floor. He didn't sound empathetic, just annoyed.

"Right." Fynta's body had been numb until then; now it ached all over with sharp pinpricks where the skin was torn.

Jorgan snorted. "Yeah. Come on." He slung his leg over the speeder Fynta had used during her time here, but didn't sit. "This is the only one available, we'll have to share." Eyeing her shoulder and leg, Jorgan's brow bones drew together. "You want to ride or drive?"

Fynta considered for a moment before coming to the only logical conclusion. _Damn it, I'm in no condition to be operating anything._ "You know, I haven't the slightest idea where the shuttle pad is. Why don't you drive?" She felt rather proud of that excuse. Given she'd been immediately shoved into a walker with no windows upon arrival, it wasn't unthinkable that she wouldn't have her bearings. Fynta had spent a lot of time getting lost here.

Jorgan seemed to agree and situated himself towards the front of the long bench seat. Leaving room for Fynta to climb onto the speeder behind him, opting to hold onto the shoulder plates of his armor. This was the first time she'd seen him in heavy armor and it added a considerable amount to his already bulky frame. Fynta hoped it was a big shuttle.

Whatever she had hoped for, what they found was considerably smaller. General Vander's shuttle was nothing more than a skiff at best. Fynta clambered off the speeder first and adjusted her satchel strap to take some of the pressure off her torso. Jorgan got off next and handed the keys to one of the uniforms nearby. Even with their ranks now being equal, the younger sergeant saluted before leaving to perform his duties. When Jorgan joined her again, Fynta smiled. "Your men respect you."

The Cathar turned his icy blue eyes back in the direction of Fort Garnik, the intricate pattern of stripes combined with the dots above his eyes give Jorgan the impression of a perpetual frown. "I guess I'll miss this place in a way." Then he shrugged and headed towards the small vessel awaiting them.

Inside was clean at least. All the metal surfaces shined from fresh polishing, the bridge sat one, there was a room with a small bed with a lavatory and single stand shower connected. Two bunks were built into the wall and a table and bench bolted to the floor. Another small room sat off to the right with a single bed and a dusty med droid. Other than a few shelves for holding weapons, the rest was empty.

"I'll plot our course, you should see the med droid," Jorgan said, dropping his pack on the floor and making for the bridge.

"Sounds good." Fynta dropped her ruck next to his and flopped down on the bench. Two days' worth of exhaustion washed over her. She had every intention of seeing the med droid, but instead, darkness overtook her.

**Aboard General Vander's Shuttle  
3 days, 12 hours to Coruscant**

_Fierfek._

That word had been replaying in Jorgan's mind since the convoy ambush. He knew that word, every Cathar did. Aric had gone through his new commanding officer's file so many times it was starting to look like a well-read novel. There was no information on Fynta Wolfe prior to her joining the military. No birth records, no parents, nothing. It wouldn't be unheard of for an orphan to be absent from the system but he didn't think that was it. He had another theory brewing and it wasn't one he was happy about.

_I found that shabbing bomb._

Lieutenant Wolfe's words echoed again and again. Normally Jorgan might attribute it to something seen on a holovid, but the way she used it indicated intimate familiarity. The Cathar in him warned Jorgan against turning his back on this woman. However, the soldier in him wanted to trust his commanding officer. Fynta had nearly killed herself to save those troops in that convoy and she'd stood up for the kid who reported Virk's crimes. For the first time in Jorgan's career, he was completely out of his depth and it had nothing to do with the mission.

Taking a deep breath as he sank into the captain's chair, Jorgan tried to clear his mind. So far, his new lieutenant had been nothing but gracious. She'd had ample opportunity to retaliate for the treatment she had received when she first arrived on Ord Mantell. As of yet, Fynta hadn't given him any real reason to distrust her. Just his gut.

Jorgan watched the stars stretch out before him as they made the jump to hyperspace and tried to keep his bitterness in check, knowing his demotion wasn't Fynta's fault. After all, her supposed squad mates had nearly killed her, or at least they'd sicked the Imperial hounds on her. Jorgan sighed and rubbed the top of his head in frustration. He could just be overthinking this entire situation and making matters more complicated for himself. It was time to face it head on and make the best of it. To stop seeing enemies in every face. He would keep an eye on Lieutenant Fynta Wolfe, but he had to trust someone and she was all Jorgan had at the moment. The Cathar stood in a hunch to climb out of the cramped cockpit and back into the main part of the ship.

"The coordinates have been entered, shouldn't be lo—" Jorgan stopped. For a brief moment he thought Fynta was dead given the unconventional angle she had slouched into, but then he saw her shoulders rising and falling. Nearly two days without rest and only one stim. It really shouldn't be a surprise to find the lieutenant like this. She was exhausted, sobered by Tavus's betrayal, thrown head first into command, and in pain. The med droid had probably given her something to help her relax. Then Jorgan realized the medbay was dark and Fynta was still wearing all of her armor.

Now he was in a bind. Initially, Jorgan's instinct was to move the woman to a more comfortable position, but then again, this was a female whom he barely knew, and now his CO. In the end, he decided it wasn't decent to leave her like that, so Jorgan sat her up straight and undid the two clasps on the shoulders of the timeworn armor. Given the awkward position and Fynta's dead weight, the clasps on the sides of the chest piece took a little more doing, the left top one had been glued shut by dried blood. He hadn't realized she had lost so much.

Finally, the armor fell away, revealing the reopened wound under Fynta's arm. It was red and raw around the edges, indicating it might be getting infected, no doubt from something in that blasted volcano. Jorgan opted for carrying the lieutenant to the medbay instead of waiting until she woke up. He was surprised to find that the woman was heavier than she looked, completely solid, all muscle. Jorgan marveled at the fact that she never stirred, even when he deposited her on the cold, metal table.

The med droid remained dormant so Jorgan walked over and knocked on the top of its dome. The eye lights lit up, sputtered, then relit. "Greetings. How may I be of assistance?" It asked in a soothing tone.

Jorgan motioned for the droid to follow, stopping at the lieutenant's unconscious form. "Full exam. She's got a shoulder wound, possibly infected, and something going on with her leg." He had noticed her limping when they got off the speeder.

Without a word, the droid set to its task. Jorgan watched for a time. She looked young, too young to be so badly banged up. Too young to be in command. I'm now taking orders from a twenty-seven year old girl, an old enemy if my theory is right. It was absurd if he worded it that way.

The med droid removed more of Fynta's armor with clawed hands, being an older model it wasn't as intricate as the ones replacing him, but his programming would be up to date. As the droid cut away at the fabric of her bodysuit, Jorgan saw fine, white scars running the length of Fynta's arm and he suspected they weren't the only ones. She was reckless and took chances that he wouldn't have even considered. The damn girl had a death wish. Fynta wasn't going to be happy when she saw what the droid had done to her only suit of armor, either. They would need to swing by the barracks on Coruscant to get her something a little better. Maybe something blast proof given her affinity for blowing things up.

Jorgan stood watching until the droid began peeling away the more personal articles of clothing and decided now would be a good time to get some rest too. "Let me know if there is anything serious," he told the droid before making for the bed in the captain's quarters. If the lieutenant wasn't going to use it, someone should.

When he woke, Jorgan wasn't sure what time of day it was. There was no sun or moon here, but he felt rested. Dressed in the clingy bodysuit all soldiers wore under their armor, his life being so encompassed by duty that he didn't even own civilian clothing anymore, Jorgan figured he'd check on their status and was surprised to find he wasn't the only one up.

"You snore horribly, you know," Fynta said from the table where she was eating something that looked vaguely like pasta. Jorgan stopped and gaped at her. He hadn't realized how pale she had been until seeing her now. Her skin was tan, nearly the same color as her dark blond hair. It made the blue of the target tattoo around her right eye stand out more prominently. Fynta's hair was much longer than expected too. Being free of its braid, it now draped over her shoulders to what he would estimate to be mid-back. It was wet too, had she used the refresher attached to the captain's quarters while he slept?

Fynta started laughing, it was a deep laugh, the kind you felt more than heard. "I'm only teasing, Jorgan. I actually had to check for a pulse to make sure you were breathing." Jorgan must have been more exhausted than he knew if she'd not only been able enter his room, but touch him without him waking. The shower hadn't roused him either. Jorgan guessed that made them even.

"You're one to talk. I thought you were dead when I came out here to find you on that bench." He crossed his arms. "Thought you'd at least wait until we left atmo."

Lieutenant Wolfe stretched and winced. "Sorry. If it makes you feel any better, it was extremely uncomfortable."

The Cathar frowned, it didn't make him feel better.

Fynta nodded to her left arm, now in a sling, with a raised eyebrow. "Your doing?"

"I woke the med droid."

"Well, thank you. I'm not sure what it pumped me full of but it should be standard issue in medpacs."

"What's that you're eating?" Jorgan asked, changing subject abruptly. The smell reminded his stomach that he hadn't eaten in a while, nothing substantial, at least.

Fynta looked down at the bowl as if she'd forgotten about it, "I have no idea. But it's good." Leaning forward, she reached across the table and grabbed a brightly colored bag, "This, however, has your name on it." She spun it around and sure enough, ARIC JORGAN was written across the front. This time he smiled.

Fynta laughed again. "He may have made your life a little more difficult, but you can't say that General Vander doesn't like you." Then her smile slipped a little and she shoved the bag towards him. "All the cupboards are stocked. I say we enjoy these few days of real food. It'll likely be back to rations once we meet with General Garza."

Jorgan took the bag and sat across from her. "I'm assuming the droid says you'll live?" He asked as he tore it open and savored the sweet smells wafting out. Vander's efforts at placating him would not go to waste. Though, it was odd sitting across from the lieutenant, eating snacks and conversing like they were. Especially given that neither of them said more than two words to one another since they'd met that hadn't directly involved the mission or her squad.

Fynta nodded. "One busted rib, a dislocated shoulder, he's taken care of the infection and closed me up again, and a bruised tibia. All non-lethal." Then her nose wrinkled, "Ugh, what is that?"

Jorgan paused with the piece of dried fruit half way to his mouth. That was a more extensive list than he'd expected. Fynta was being remarkably casual about it. Then he remembered the scars running down her arm, maybe this was all just part of the job for her. "It would be embarrassing to die right after taking command," he commented, holding out a piece of the fruit, a peace offering.

Fynta took it gingerly and sampled a small bite. "It tastes better than it smells," she admitted, then proceeded to eat the rest. "So. Tell me something about yourself. I know you commanded the Deadeyes, which you'll tell me about someday," she said, emphasizing the word with finger quotations and eyeing the bag in his hands. When Jorgan slid it closer to himself, she continued, "I hardly know you and we are a team now. You've got to give me something."

Jorgan shrugged, "Really not much to know." What he meant was he had no idea where to begin. He was four years her senior, his life had been full, no doubt about that, but little of it could be found outside his file. Duty was his life.

Fynta misunderstood, of course. "Come on now," she purred, sliding a file across the table and tapping it with her finger. It was her file. "You seem to know all about me."

Jorgan met her gaze, she still wore a smile, but her dark blue eyes were predatory. "It is standard procedure to look into new soldiers coming under your command." He felt like he were on the defensive, it was a feeling he didn't like.

"It's also standard procedure to leave the file where it belongs when the mission is over." Fynta thumbed through the pages, "It looks well read. Should I be flattered?" She asked, steepling her fingers below her chin. Jorgan got the feeling this was a trap and there were no right answers. Blast, he hated having female CO's.

"If you like." He sighed when her eyebrows shot up. "I like to know who I'm serving with. Especially is they're giving the orders." Fynta didn't look convinced. "Look, I am a soldier. I fight for the Republic, I have been decorated, promoted and now demoted. My number one goal is catching the traitors who did this to me. When I signed on with the Deadeyes, my CO was Lieutenant Vorne—certified war hero, as decorated as they come. When he gave an order, we trusted it, followed it to the letter. A squad needs that kind of commitment to operate effectively." How could he fully trust a woman he knew nothing about? Most of Fynta's file was missing, not obviously redacted, just plain not there.

"So you're saying you don't trust me?"

"I'm saying trust requires more than a slick new promotion. Havoc Squad is the Republic's most elite outfit. We tackle the missions no one else can handle. Traitor or no. Tavus is a tough act to follow. You think you're up to it?"

"I wouldn't be leading Havoc if I didn't." Fynta went back to flipping through her file. "There isn't much by way of excitement in here," she said casually. "They left the good stuff out."

Jorgan met her eyes again, they were unwavering and solid steel now. She was challenging him to see who would blink first and Jorgan knew his original assumption was correct. "You're Mandalorian."

Fynta's tone never faltered. "I should know better than to use Mando'a in front of a Cathar." She sighed and shut the file. "It just slipped out."

Blast it. He wished he hadn't been right. "We tend to remember those things, yes." The planet Cathar had been utterly destroyed by the Mandalorians long before either of them were born, but wounds like that tended to fester over generations. Jorgan nodded at the file, "There's a big gap in there. So, what's your story?"

Fynta's eyes narrowed. "Tell you what, I'm going to level with you—I'm going to trust you." Somehow Jorgan felt as if she had started this entire conversation just to lead them to this point. "But what we discuss here never leaves this shuttle." He nodded, best not to interrupt her now.

"Even though Mandalorians technically swear allegiance to no one, our current Mand'alor is aligned with the Empire. By Republic definition that makes me a defector. I joined up after my parents died and my clan was decimated. I was fifteen and I wanted to fight, but I don't agree with the Empire's total dominance plan and I'm not the mercenary type. The local gangs were a bit too brutal; I need something to fight for. So, I came to the Republic and offered my skill set."

Jorgan was surprised by her candor. "Well, you've got plenty of confidence and raw talent. That explains where you came from but not the five year gap in your career." If Fynta was fifteen when her clan was destroyed, then she'd already been a trained killer. They started young, Aric knew. All the military did was give her free kit.

"That, my friend, is the part that can't leave this shuttle." Fynta dropped something onto the table. It was a camera with a built in listening device that looked like it had been ripped out of the wall. General Vander wouldn't be pleased.

"Okay, you've got my attention." Jorgan looked from the device back to her, hovering between anticipation and apprehension.

"I don't advertise the Mandalorian angle because it tends to make people nervous, but I'm not exactly hiding it either." Fynta's hand spread out over her file. "I was recruited straight out of commando school by an elite squad of. . ." she paused, trying to find the right word, "Well, I'm not sure what we were but we fixed things. We cleaned up embarrassing messes, spied on the enemy, paraded targets out for snipers, and pretty much whatever else was needed. We worked intimately with the SIS. But we didn't exist, not because we did the hard jobs like Havoc Squad but because we did the messy jobs. Dirty politics were a large part of it. Two women in my unit were responsible for ousting that corrupt senator last year. The hard way."

Jorgan remembered that incident. An esteemed senator from one of the Core Worlds was forced to resign after being caught in bed with not one but two other women. Neither of them his wife. Somehow the press had gotten a tip on where to be and what time. "They were the women?"

Fynta nodded. "What the holonews didn't tell the Republic was that he was selling our military secrets to the Empire and the court system couldn't touch him. So they brought us in. I called in the tip myself." She spoke with no emotion, as if she had been rehearsing this for a while.

"So, the dirty jobs." Jorgan had been so curious, now he wished he could change that. Fynta was an attractive young woman, he didn't want to imagine what that line of work had forced her to do.

"I was the one they called for the more aggressive jobs," she said, seeming to read his mind, "I'm a pretty good shot and snipers need proper clearance to take out a target. I didn't. If the press hadn't done their job, then I would have taken care of it." Fynta put her palms flat on the table, "There you have it, apart from mission specifics that should fill in the gaps." She pushed herself to her feet and leaned across the table, still staring at him as if asking if he were satisfied.

As best as Jorgan could tell Fynta had been completely honest, the details weren't his business. "Thank you," he said at last.

Fynta moved stiffly across the room to a small bin to throw away her trash. She was wearing a clean undershirt and her fatigue pants. Jorgan had seen hundreds of women dressed in similar fashion. Some wore it better than others and he noticed for the first time she had an attractive figure. Something that was usually hidden under bulky armor. Her injured leg added extra swing to her hips.

"So why tell me all of this?" When Fynta looked over at him with furrowed eyebrows, Jorgan elaborated. "I mean, you could easily have ordered me to shove it and left it at that." It's what he would have done.

The lieutenant bent slightly to scrape the rest of the pasta stuff into the bin before answering. "Because despite our rocky beginning, I like you, Aric." It was strange to hear his first name, almost alien. "Vander was right, you are a good man and the galaxy needs more of those." Fynta straightened and leaned her uninjured hip against the counter, studying him. Jorgan couldn't fathom what she was thinking. "And we need to trust one another. You and I are going to be chasing the most dangerous people in the galaxy. Trust begins with honesty." Pushing off the counter, she gave a wink. "Enjoy your treat." As he watched Fynta limp across the room with her head held high, Jorgan realized this was a completely different woman from Ord Mantell. She was playful, assertive, and dangerous, which he found oddly attractive. That wasn't a good thing.

Over the next couple of days Jorgan got to know the lieutenant a little more. Conversation was easy between the two. Fynta often cracking jokes and teasing whenever she found an opportunity. Jorgan doing his best to not let those opportunities arise. She was winning that battle. Nothing else was said about personal matters or the need to get to know one another, although he had the sneaking suspicion that every time he opened his mouth she learned something new. Well, so had he. Although Fynta's leg was nearly mended, Jorgan noticed she used more humor when she was in pain. Her brow furrowed when she was considering a tough decision, something he took advantage of when playing Sabacc. And her eyebrows rose nearly to her hairline when Fynta thought something was out of line or issuing a wordless dare. Jorgan had seen that face a lot. It was hard to tell what was considered out of line for Fynta. Mandalorians had extraordinarily loose morals in some areas, yet rigid guidelines in others and only they knew which was which. By the end of the trip Jorgan was beginning to feel more like Fynta was his comrade instead of his commanding officer.

At the moment, he was staring at the controls on the bridge. They would be dropping out of hyperspace soon, then on to Coruscant and their next mission. It wasn't until he felt movement that Jorgan became aware of Fynta leaning on the back of the captain's chair. No matter how vigilant he tried to be, she had a way of sneaking up on him. "After all the chaos on Ord Mantell, this trip has been nice, wouldn't you say?" She yawned and backed out of the cabin to stretch.

Jorgan followed. "I always feel claustrophobic in hyperspace." Although he'd never realized that until he voiced it.

Fynta leaned against the wall, arms crossed under her breast, measuring him again. "I rather enjoy it. It's quiet." Clearly his indignation was showing because she flashed a wide smile. "What I mean, is no matter what is going on out there. In here, it's peaceful."

"Huh, never thought of it that way." They stood in silence, Jorgan contemplating this new outlook on hyperspace, Fynta, well there was never any telling what was going on in her head. For all the talking she did, Jorgan was discovering that the lieutenant kept her private thoughts close.

Fynta was the first to break the silence. "I wonder if I could get your help with something." She tilted her head to the side, again making her look younger and more innocent when her hair fell over one shoulder. Fynta had a way about her that made whoever was caught in her sights feel needed. Jorgan was learning to combat it, it was amazing what could be accomplished in just a few days.

"With what?" He asked warily.

Fynta threw back her head and laughed. "Good, you're learning!" Jorgan felt like he'd been caught in her trap already.

"My leg seems to be mended and I've nearly got the med droid to give me the all clear. Apparently its programing says I must wait a full week before doing anything strenuous. However, we will be in Coruscant space in a couple of hours, I don't have a week. So. . ." Fynta paused, her dark eyes measuring again. "I thought perhaps a little hand to hand, followed by a medical exam might convince it otherwise."

It wasn't the request Jorgan was expecting, but he saw her point. "So, you want a sparring match?"

Fynta nodded.

"Where are you planning on doing this?"

"There is the trick, my Cathar friend." Fynta tapped her chin and looked around the small shuttle. "I'm thinking the engine room. It's certainly large enough, so long as we don't get too crazy."

"Alright," Jorgan agreed. "On one condition. I won't be held responsible if you end up injured again."

"Deal," Fynta said as she spun on her heel, pausing to look back over her shoulder. "You coming, soldier?"

The engine room was located down a ladder at the bottom of the ship. Jorgan had insisted on bringing the med droid just in case. Fynta had consented grudgingly. The droid placed itself in a corner and waited, motionless. They stood face to face, the two large engines humming to both sides, and the steam and condensation of the pipes making the air humid, Jorgan was already sweating.

They had agreed to hand to hand, no weapons, no armor. At some point, though, Fynta had started some music and it echoed down from above, just loud enough to be heard over the industrial sounds of the ship. She swayed along with the tune while she finished plaiting her hair. It wasn't what Jorgan would have chosen for a fight, being too soft and instrumental, but then again, he wasn't much of a music enthusiast.

Fynta stood before him with a teasing smile on her lips, her limbs relaxed and knees slightly bent, feet apart. She looked completely at ease. Jorgan shifted his own stance, turning to the side to present a smaller target for her, most of his weight on his back leg. Upstairs, the music shifted and a stringed instrument picked up the beat and was joined by others until they had all worked into a fast paced flurry that made his heart hammer. At that same moment, Fynta made her move and Jorgan was looking up at her from the ground. He hadn't seen it coming, but he'd sure as hell felt it.

"Now you're warmed up," she taunted, dancing backwards.

Jorgan leaped to his feet and straight into an attack, grabbing her arm, but Fynta twisted away to elbow him in the ribs. He swung with the other hand; she blocked with her forearm and boxed his ear, all the while dancing a circle around him. At one point Jorgan managed to get his arm around Fynta's neck and was sure he had her, but she'd stomped his insole and slipped away again.

"You're not holding back are you?" Fynta teased, a wide grin on her face.

Jorgan held his ribs and growled. "Not anymore."

They had agreed to no fists, so open handed, he struck at Fynta from every direction available to him. She blocked here and there, then Jorgan landed a blow directly to her sternum, knocking her to the floor.

Fynta was up almost as quickly as she'd gone down. "Kandosii!" There was a light in her eyes now, making them shine. The two soldiers spun and twisted and grunted with each hit. Somewhere in the back of his mind Jorgan was aware of the music, almost as if they were moving in time with the instruments. This was a dance, he realized, and Jorgan knew how would end it. He waited for Fynta to make a specific twist, the one that would put her in reach of his right arm just before she would elbow, head butt, or knee him, he wasn't sure which. When she did, Jorgan was ready.

Grabbing hold of both of Fynta's arms, Jorgan snapped them to her sides, in the same movement sweeping her closest leg. It left Jorgan unbalanced but he thought it worth the risk, somehow envisioning a scenario where he let go as Fynta started to fall. What actually happened was their legs became entangled and they both went down, Fynta on her back, arms pinned with no way to slow her fall, Jorgan on top, his hands still holding her. He got the brief satisfaction of seeing the surprise on her face before his weight drove the breath from her lungs and Fynta's knee caught him in the groin, making Jorgan's own attempts to breathe just as difficult.

Jorgan rolled over with a groan onto his back next to her, panting. The med droid glided over smoothly and scanned them both. "No new injuries. You are cleared for duty," it reported before using its pressurized air boosters to scale the latter and return to the medbay upstairs.

Jorgan heard a strangled "Yes!" next to him and turned his head to find that the lieutenant was beginning to clamber to her feet. Slowly. Fynta stopped at a sitting position and forced a deep breath. Her eyes no longer shone with the same intensity, but she did look on the verge of laughing. "And what are you smiling at?" She asked.

Jorgan hadn't realized he was. There really wasn't a single reason why other than the fact that he felt great. No doubt his abdominals would be sore tomorrow, along with a few other places, but for now Jorgan felt exhilarated. He felt alive. Climbing to his feet as smoothly as he could, Jorgan offered Fynta a hand. "That was fun," he said, pulling her upright. "It's been a long time since I've had training like that."

"See. I knew you had it in you." Fynta brushed the dirt from her clothing and patted his shoulder as she made her way towards the ladder. Stopping halfway up, she looked over her shoulder again. "You coming, soldier?"

Jorgan was beginning to appreciate his new lieutenant. She had yet to call him sergeant and he would bet a pile a credits that was intentional. "Right behind you, boss."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Footnotes:
> 
> Osik [OH-sik] dung (impolite)
> 
> Fierfek [FIRE-fek] a Huttese slang word that meant "hex" or "curse," but was commonly accepted to mean "poison" by non-Huttese-speaking races. Later adopted as an expletive.
> 
> shab - excrement (used as a curse)
> 
> Kandosii! [Kan-DOH-see] Nice one! Wicked! Well done!


	2. Deadly Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone loves a bounty hunter, so here's two. The introduction of a couple of new characters who will pop up and cause chaos from time to time just because I want them to. Also a little look into the Mandalorian culture that will become as much a part of this story as the characters.

**Taris** **  
Zone Zero**

"Shab!" Cinlat swore. "Care to tell me why I'm the one being shot while you're scouting?"

"He likes you better," Verin responded. Cinlat swore again as the bolt from Rhed Jut's sniper rifle hit her for the third time. Verin decided it might be best to follow it up by deflecting the blame. "He said so himself."

Any normal husband would rush to his wife's aid if she were being pelted by sniper fire. Verin and Cinlat weren't exactly a normal couple. He was born and raised Mandalorian, adopted by Clan Ordo after his own Clan's destruction in the Mandalorian Civil War. His wife was no dainty flower either. Cinlat was an orphan from the fighting pit on Hutta who went on to become the two time winner of the Great Hunt. She'd later been adopted into Clan Lok by the Mand'alor himself. Now they were currently hunting down a real pain in the shebs Death Watch member who'd pissed off one too many Imperial big wigs.

"Haar'chak! _"_ Cinlat growled. Verin had taught his wife Mando'a shortly after they'd met. She'd already been fluent in swearing by then. He really should be more concerned, but Cinlat was wearing some of the best beskar'gam money could buy and Verin knew those bolts weren't getting through. Granted, that didn't mean she wasn't going to be sore tomorrow.

Cinlat was used to being shot at, as a matter of fact, Verin had shot her the first time they met and she'd beat the living osik out of him for it. He'd been smitten ever since. That was nearly ten years earlier and Verin had taken a few more beatings since then, but he wouldn't give up a day of it. "Verin, tell me you've found it," Cinlat snarled through clenched teeth.

"I'm getting close. Just keep him busy, riduur."

"I will make you pay for this."

Verin didn't doubt it, he just hoped the credits were worth it. It was true that Death Watch was becoming a real problem among his people. They lacked discipline, morals, and discretion. Rhed wasn't one of the big guys, but he'd caused enough trouble with the Imperials to get himself put on the Blacklist, which only Great Hunt winners had access to. Along with the jackpot for whoever finally managed to take down the target.

"Ha!" Cinlat let out a cheer. "Not so tough now!"

"You get him?" If she'd managed to kill the mark, then Verin could stop slogging through rakghoul infested swamps.

"No, but at least he'll have some bruises too. I really love these new blasters." Verin checked her POV, Cinlat was admiring the long barreled rippers he'd gotten with the credits from their last job. She could packed a punch on her own, but Cinlat was still a petite woman and he wanted his wife to have as much stopping power as she could carry. The rippers were a good way to go.

"Just remember how much you love them and who gave them to you when this is all said and done."

"Just keep tracking." Cinlat was trying to sound angry but Verin knew better. Secretly, his wife was enjoying this, no matter what she said. Cinlat had never been afraid to charge into the middle of a fight and the day she cold clocked that Sith for trying to back out on a deal was the day Verin decided he was going to marry the woman. His little sister had been fifteen at the time, a grown woman by their culture, and she'd grown up to be just like Cinlat. Even if Fynta had chosen a different path.

"Tell me again how this game works. Because it seems a little one sided so far," Cinlat grumbled.

"You grabbed the stuff, right?"

"Yeah, it's all junk."

"Doesn't matter what it is, point is, he doesn't want you to have it. Once you've grabbed all his trophies, we can storm the castle, but we need to find it first." Verin knew he was close. Rhed had been injured during their initial meeting and the blood was getting brighter. Still, he kept talking in the hopes of distracting Cinlat from the world of pain she probably had planned for him later. "It's _Geroya be Haran_. The Game of Annihilation. Whoever survives, wins. Pretty simple, actually."

"So no different from any of our other bounties. Except for the part where I _agreed_ to let a guy shoot me . . . continuously." So maybe she wasn't enjoying it _that_ much anymore.

"Hey, you said you wanted to learn the culture," Verin replied defensively. Cinlat had thrown herself into being a proper Mandalorian woman over the last few years. Apart from the cooking and starting a clan of their own portion. "Besides, you should be honored. No one uses this challenge anymore. You must've really gotten under his skin."

"I have a way with people, it's true." Verin heard the sloshing of water, Cinlat must be wading through one of the many murky ponds on this stinking planet, same as him. "Ah, shab."

"What's wrong?"

There was a deep breath before she responded. "I found another one." Cinlat had found three items so far and with each trophy Rhed gave her another bolt. Verin might not be in fear for his wife's life, but he would enjoy wrapping his hands around the old man's neck. After he let Cinlat shoot the geezer repeatedly in the body parts of her choosing. Verin winced as she growled again, another bolt smashing into her.

"I'm close, cyare." Their situation was beginning to lose its comedic appeal.

**The Sinking City**

Cinlat could now admit freely that she might be getting too old for this. Forty wasn't far around the corner and she didn't bounce back as easily as she used to. Verin was a few years her junior, so, of course, she felt the need to keep up appearances. Besides, they both loved the lifestyle, just sometimes it got a little . . . uncomfortable. This time the bolt took her in the lower back, sending a shock of pain all the way up Cinlat's spine and into her teeth. She managed to snag the broken sword as she dropped to her knees and growled.

"I'm close, cyare _."_

At least Verin didn't sound as amused anymore. Cinlat could hold her own in a fight, but standing out in the open, presenting the perfect target for a sniper, and doing it purposefully. That was just downright insulting. She hoped the shabuir was having a good time because Cinlat had a list a parsec long of all the ways she was going to make him suffer when she finally caught up to him. And she would; Cinlat had never missed a mark and this one had become personal. She'd hunt the man down until one of them died of old age if she had too.

"I think I found something, Cin. But you're not going to like it," Verin reported through her helmet comm.

"Something I like less than being shot?"

"Maybe," he paused for a long time, but Cinlat was patient. She knew eventually Verin give it up if she waited. The man could resist torture, both physical and chemical, but the one thing her husband could not abide was silence. "I might have a line on where he lives, but it's in the heart of rakghoul territory."

"Oh. Is that all?" Rakghouls were a nuisance; even with armor. They spread disease, turned other people into more rakghouls, were highly aggressive, and they stank worse than Verin after that job they'd pulled on Fest. "Just give me the coordinates."

"Good news is, you're close." Cinlat's HUD lit up. Sure enough, she was only a couple of klicks away. "Bad news is, I'm not. It'll take me some time to get to you," Verin said. "Why don't you find a place to hole up and wait for me."

"Here's a better idea. I'll start that way and you can catch up." Cinlat was tired of Taris. What had once been a glimmering city planet the likes of Coruscant was now a radioactive slime pit thanks to the Sith. When they offered an ultimatum, you'd better be prepared for the consequences of turning it down.

Verin was quiet for a while, apart from his ragged breathing. "Fine," he responded after a while. The less Verin spoke, the higher his anxiety level was. His little sister Fynta was just like him. Both had been little brats with big mouths when Cinlat had first met them. She still wasn't sure how Verin managed to convince her to let them tag along after that bounty on Hutta, but she was glad he did.

The coordinates led to a jagged opening in the wall of a cliff. "I'm here," Cinlat reported. "It Looks like some kind of transit system. I doubt it still functions, but seems to have held up to the destruction pretty well." The railway led further into the mountain for as far as she could see. The shabbing benches and ticket booths were even still standing. It was no wonder Rhed had chosen this place to lay low. Except for the rakghouls, of course. Cinlat wondered how he got in because the place was crawling with them.

"How many?" Verin asked, he was probably watching her POV more than his own even if he wouldn't admit to it. Those Wolfe kids latched on hard when they made a connection, loyal to the end and twice as stubborn.

"More than a few. Less than all of them." It wasn't like she planned on counting. Cinlat lobbed a grenade into the densest pack and waited. The thing went off with a flash of light, a loud bang, and a whole lot of mutant biological material shot passed her. It was a messy business, but it had been a long day and Cinlat wasn't in the mood for subtlety.

"What was that?"

"Grenade."

"Cin, you planning to bring the whole mountain down on top of yourself? Those beams are probably unstable."

Cinlat hefted another grenade and chucked it at an advancing group of slobbering, hairless creatures with sharp teeth to the same effect. Nothing crashed down on top of her. "Seems fine to me." Verin muttered something that she didn't quite catch. "Relax. I've already scanned them. They're solid. You really think I'd be that reckless?"

"Wait, you may not have to be. I think I found it."

Cinlat stopped in the entrance to the railway, keeping a wary eye out for more rakghouls. "You just stumbled across it?"

"Not exactly, I was checking the map to find the fastest route to you and saw him dart across the yard. Looks like he's gone into that big ship, the Endar Spire. Hey, wasn't that the Republic's last stand before Taris was sacked?"

"You're asking the wrong person. Not a lot of history classes on Hutta, love." Cinlat walked back into the open night and looked up at the sky to check her position by the moon. Even the clouds were a sickly shade of green. "Send me the coordinates and I'll head your way."

"Transmitting location." There was a pause and Cinlat knew exactly what Verin's next words would be. "I'm going to lay a trap for him."

Rolling her eyes, Cinlat jogged back to the speeder and threw a leg over it. The Endar Spire was pretty easy to pinpoint in the satellite imagery, all she had to do was figure out where she was in relation to it. Unfortunately, the fastest route took her straight through the Cathar's new territory. Seemed the Republic was trying to reclaim the broken world by inviting anyone who needed a place to crash to come help rebuild. Of course, the now scattered Cathar had jumped at the opportunity to lay down some new roots. Cinlat and Cathar didn't have a good history. She'd fought a few of them back in the pits on Hutta and each battle had left her with a new scar. Couple that with the fact that she'd be riding through at night, and in full beskar'gam, which the big furballs were sure to recognize, and she'd be swarmed. _Looks like I'm taking the long way around_ , Cinlat thought bitterly as she started the bike.

By the time Cinlat finally made it to the downed ship, the sun was starting to rise. "Verin, I'm here. Got anything for me?" She was off the speeder bike and nearly to the entrance when she realized he hadn't answered. Cinlat stopped just outside the door and pulled both her rippers from their holsters. "Verin?" Shab, he wasn't answering, that wasn't good. She knew her husband was too stubborn to die, but that didn't mean he hadn't managed to get himself injured.

The rays from the sun slanted in from behind, reflecting off the three leveled laser security system. Primitive, but effective. It was also easy to shut down. The next room was a little trickier as the floor was littered with small, black discs. Cinlat had seen those before, they emitted a field of electrically charged particles that could knock a wampa on its shebs and the size of the field was variable. Their only drawback was that they fluctuated at random intervals, meaning every few seconds the field became visible.

It was slow going, but eventually Cinlat made her way through the minefield with only one unpleasant experience to take home with her. Even then, superior armor had protected her from the worst of the shock. At least, until she saw Verin lying on the floor in front of a stack of overturned crates. Cinlat cast one more look around to make sure there weren't any more mines before hurrying to his side.

Verin's helmet was a few feet away from him, which explained his lack of response, and there was a nasty gash across his face. It wasn't until Cinlat was kneeling next to her husband in the gloom that she could see he was awake, if not completely coherent. "What happened?"

Cloudy blue eyes focused on Cinlat's face and he groaned. "I got cocky." Cinlat moved to the side while Verin rolled onto his knees. "Hit him with the electro-net but he hit me with something bigger." The man shook his head, trying to displace the heaviness that came with a probable concussion.

"Well, you won't be as pretty after that heals if we don't get something on it." Cinlat retrieved a pouch of kolto gel from her belt's first aid kit and held it out to Verin. "Any idea where he went?"

"He's hurt and bleeding so should be pretty easy to track." Verin ripped the pouch open with his teeth and winced as he smeared the gel over the wound that traveled from his ear down his law line. "He sacrificed his stockpile to escape. So I'm guessing the chakaar's going to hit a couple of the nearby outposts."

"At least we have a lead. Come on." Cinlat snatched up Verin's helmet and helped him to his feet before shoving it at him. "Try to keep this on."

"Yes, mum."

"Di'kut, _"_ Cinlat snorted. Verin was an idiot sometimes, but he was her idiot and she'd run through anyone who tried to take him from her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Footnotes:
> 
> shab - excrement (used as a curse)
> 
> Mand'alor [MAHN-dah-lor] (title) sole ruler
> 
> shebs [shebs] backside, rear, buttocks
> 
> haar'chak [HAR-chak] damn it
> 
> osik [OH-sik] dung (impolite)
> 
> riduur [REE-door] partner, spouse, husband, wife
> 
> cyare [SHAH-ray] beloved, loved, popular
> 
> shabuir [SHAH-boo-EER] extreme insult - *jerk*, but much stronger
> 
> beskar'gam [BES-kar-GAM] armor
> 
> chakaar [chah-KAR] corpse robber, thief, petty criminal - general term of abuse
> 
> di'kut [DEE-koot] idiot, useless individual, waste of space (lit. someone who forgets to put their pants on)


	3. New Kit

**Triple Zero  
Coruscant Boardwalk**

Once outside the Senate Tower, Jorgan shook himself. "Thought I was a tough CO," he muttered. Garza was a hard woman who'd clawed her way to the top of SpecForce and she wasn't about to let anyone forget it. He'd take a hiding from an angry commander any day over that soft spoken disappointment, though.

"Oh, you were." Jorgan knew Fynta meant it as a joke, but he scowled anyway. His demotion was still an open wound, no matter how hard he tried to close it. Garza didn't exactly pull any punches either. "Looks like there is a bazaar close by," Fynta continued, reading a section of a map of Coruscant on her datapad, oblivious to his sudden annoyance.

"Are we going shopping?" Jorgan's tone came out harsher than he'd intended.

Fynta gave him a level stare while motioning to her dress uniform, "Yes, we are. Unless you want to assume command on the first day because this won't stop a butter knife and that osik the Republic gives us isn't much better." Fynta turned on her heel and stalked off. "You could do with an upgrade too," she called back over her shoulder.

It seemed to Jorgan that his new commanding officer found the bazaar easier to navigate than she had the Senate Tower. Finding the right merchant though, had been an entirely different matter. "Does no one sell armor in this shabla place?" Fynta said angrily as they waded through the press of individuals.

"You a soldier?" Called a portly man from a stall selling fruit.

Fynta glared at him. "I've been looking all over for you." The way she approached spoke of a familiarity, but this was a food stall, not armor. "I wish you'd stick to one trade. It would save me some time."

The man rolled his head back in laughter, all his chins jiggling. "Tell you what, buy some of my goods," he nodded at her, "It'll put some meat on your skinny bones. While I tell you how to find Kal."

"Always a catch with you, huh, Si?" Fynta pulled a cred stick out of the pouch on her belt and tossed it to the man with a wink.

The man's eyes grew wide. "Mighty generous of you, sweetheart!"

Si proceeded to scribble out directions on a piece of flimsi while Fynta filled the bag with spikey fruits. They were well out of earshot before Jorgan spoke in a low tone. "You didn't have to give him so much, for all we know he's sending us to a relative to be scammed."

Fynta cut her eyes over at Jorgan. "Is it a scam if you know you're being scammed?" Then chuckled at the expression she'd provoked. "We needed some food anyway, those are packed with protein and a lot better tasting than rations. You need to have a little faith in people." Fynta reached up and patted his shoulder before going back to her datapad.

"Maybe you should have a little less, and to answer your question, yes, it's still a scam."

Fynta chuckled again and brought up an image on her datapad. "Well then, you'll be happy to know that my contact just vouched for Zeb. And yes, I trust this contact." She stopped and pointed, holding out the device to show Jorgan the image her _contact_ had sent. "That must be him." Jorgan looked up to find they were standing in front of a cart covered in shiny, new armor. Some of the pieces looked freshly made, others re-polished. Jorgan sighed inwardly, sure he wouldn't hear the end of this any time soon.

Fynta waited patiently for Zeb, a shorter than average Rodian, to finish with his client before approaching, all signs of her earlier frustration gone. "Su cuy'gar _._ " It was a traditional Mandalorian greeting; that much Jorgan knew. Zeb's already massive eyes widened more before he responded in kind, looking around as if to ensure he wasn't being set up. Fynta smiled. "Let's see what you've got."

The man never said a word, just handed her piece of flimsi. "Ret'urcye mhi," Fynta replied and grasped his forearm. Zeb nodded, the little antenna like protrusions on his head bobbing, then turned his back and started packing up.

"That went well," Fynta mused as they made their way out of the bazaar. She was smiling while inputting the new coordinates and Jorgan was wondering why his new lieutenant hadn't even looked at the armor they had spent all that time tracking down.

"What did you say to him at the end?" Jorgan asked, mostly he knew greetings and curses.

"Maybe we'll meet again." Fynta glanced up with a playful glint in her eye. "Mandalorians tend to die young. Death is just as much a part of our culture as life."

"He was Mandalorian?" Jorgan looked back over his shoulder, but the Rodian was gone.

Fynta nodded. "Anyone who accepts Resol'nare, the six tenants of Mandalorian culture, can call themselves Mandalorian." She started counting on her fingers, "Wearing the armor, speaking the language, defending oneself and family, raising your children as Mandalorians, contributing to the clan's welfare, and when called upon by the Mand'alor, rallying to their cause."

That last part bothered Jorgan. "So if the Mand'alor calls. . . ."

Again, Fynta gave Jorgan a steely look that made him feel as though he'd stepped over a line. "I'm a Republic soldier, Jorgan. However, since I follow the other five, no one asks."

"Who counts as clan and family, then?" Not to mention the part about raising children. Did Fynta have children?

"Aliit ori'shya tal'din," Fynta replied. " _Family is more than blood_. My clan is my squad, which makes you my aliit. My family. It means you can trust me to watch your back and defend you. If you are killed before I am, it becomes my responsibility to remember your name to ensure your soul lives on." Fynta paused, her tone turning more serious. "It means I can trust you."

"So are we heading into Coruscant's underbelly?" Jorgan wouldn't put it past Fynta to go to the black market. After all, Garza herself claimed that's where Havoc got a large part of their kit before. Jorgan realized suddenly that he'd entered a world much different from his relatively cut and dry command on Ord Mantell.

"Nope." Fynta pointed to a tall building that looked the same as every other tall building. They were still in the commercial district, the reputable one. "We're here."

"So why all the secrecy?"

Fynta knocked on the door and greeted the human female who answered it with the same Mando'a as the Rodian and handed over the slip of flimbsi. The woman smiled and waved them in. Fynta caught Jorgan's arm and lowered her voice before following. "Because beskar is rare and quite expensive."

Jorgan lowered his own to match, "All you have to do is know the language?" That didn't seem like a smart way to pick clientele.

"Sort of. It's more a demeanor. Anyone can say words, but they have to mean something." she explained," Fynta explained. Now that she mentioned it, that had been how Jorgan pegged her back on Ord Mantell.

"I've heard of beskar armor. It's supposed to be the best." Rumor had it the stuff was even resistant to lightsabers.

"Oh, it is—"

Whatever else Fynta planned on saying was cut off when the woman stopped and heaved open a heavy door. "Here we are, just got a shipment in yesterday. Strip down to your smalls and I'll get you measured."

"Much obliged," Fynta said and started removing her dress uniform while the woman slipped out. She'd grumbled plenty about wishing she had armor until Jorgan had agreed to dawn his dress uniform as well. Fynta's complaining had decreased, but only by half. "Come on, Jorgan, you too," Fynta nudged him before pulling off her shirt.

"What if I like my armor?" Did she honestly expect him to strip down in here?

"Then hang it on a wall. I like my soldiers alive and where we're going this is your best bet." Fynta folded her jacket and placed it neatly on the back of a chair.

Jorgan sighed and started unbuttoning his own jacket, not completely sure why he was going along with this other than curiosity. Eventually they stood there, Fynta in a halter bra and underwear, him in his shorts. It was awkward and Jorgan did his best to keep his eyes on anything except his commanding officer until he realized she was openly staring at him, head tilted to the side.

"What?" Jorgan asked defensibly.

Fynta reached out and he shied away. "That is an interesting scar." This time she grabbed Jorgan's bicep and turned him slowly. The scar she was examining began near his lower spine and wrapped around almost to his navel. "What happened?" Fynta sounded more intrigued than horrified. The fact that they were both nearly naked didn't seem to faze her either.

"Akk dog training didn't go as planned. It was old and half blind, grabbed me instead of the practice dummy. I didn't react fast enough." Jorgan ran a finger along the top of the puckered skin. "Still can't feel anything and the hair won't grow back."

"Hey, Fynta!" The lieutenant looked up as a man came through the door. He was roughly her age if Jorgan had to guess, and wrapped her in a hug tight enough to lift her feet off the floor. "How is everything?" The new arrival had wavy brown hair, green eyes, and wore a long, brown jacket with a blaster secured to his thigh.

"Good, do you have anything for me and my friend here?" Still, Fynta seemed completely at ease with her state of undress, but Jorgan felt like an idiot.

The man put Fynta down and looked her over carefully. "You, certainly." Then he turned his appraising eye on Jorgan. "This one's a big one." Jorgan had to repress the urge to hit lieutenant's _friend_ at the exaggerated wink he flashed Fynta. "I think I've got something, though. Come with me."

They followed the swaggering man down a few metal ramps and even more passages, leaving their effects, including their weapons, in the pile behind them. Jorgan didn't like it, but then Fynta brushed his arm as she slid a small knife into the waistband at the back of his shorts. The relief of knowing he still had access to a weapon quelled any awkwardness Jorgan might have normally felt. He wondered where Fynta was keeping hers, then decided it was best if he didn't dwell on it.

"Here we go." The man pressed a button on the wall to reveal a conveyer behind a hidden panel on the wall. Within were five shelves that around faster than Jorgan could follow. "I like this one for you. I know how you like your—" the human male paused and a big, stupid grin spread across his face, "—mobility."

Fynta stepped forward to inspect the gear and Jorgan noticed she had her own share of interesting scars. Particularly the ones that looked like lashings down her back, exceptionally white against her tan skin. Jorgan had seen similar marks on slaves. "I like it," she said with a smile. "You always knew how to pick them, Kal."

Kal removed the armor from the shelf and helped Fynta put the chest piece and greaves on. It was all rough material right now, Mandalorians liked to customize their armor, or so Aric had heard. Once Fynta was suited, Jorgan understood the stupid grin. It fit her like a glove, not the bulky plates the Republic gave its soldiers, but true, custom, molded armor.

Fynta bent and twisted, seemingly pleased with the results. "This is an uncanny fit." Her eyebrows were raised and she was smiling.

Kal shrugged, "What can I say? I've had it stored for a while."

"For me?" Fynta looked genuinely surprised by that.

"You forget, we were going to get married before you ran off and joined the army," Kal waggled a finger at her playfully. "So I kept up with your size. I knew you'd find your way to me eventually. Plus, Verin insisted."

"Of course he did." Fynta didn't bat an eye at the marriage comment. Jorgan felt like the more he got to know his lieutenant, the more confusing she became. "Now how about my friend?"

"Ah, yes." Kal pressed the button again and the reels spun so fast that Jorgan was getting dizzy watching them. "I think this one will do you just fine." Removing the armor, the man stepped towards Jorgan but a simple snarl was enough to make him second guess. "Okay, I'll let her help you," Kal responded, holding the gear out to Fynta.

She just snickered and moved around to show Jorgan how to snap the back plates to the front until he was completely encased. The beskar was lighter than he expected and it fit exceptionally well. Not as well as Fynta's, but better than his old armor had. The range of motion it provided was a lot better too.

"Wow."

Fynta took his comment as approval and clapped her hands together. "Excellent. We'll take the lot." She pulled a couple of unmarked credits from the strap on her bra. Jorgan hadn't been looking too closely earlier, but now he saw that she had pockets sewn into it. Clever.

Kal held his hands away from his body, "Absolutely not. You get the family discount. Plus Verin would kill me, he paid for your armor three years ago."

Jorgan wondered who Verin was. Maybe another old boyfriend? Fynta pushed the credits towards him again, "At least let me pay for my friend's."

Kal considered it, then sighed. "Fine, but half price. When you pick up some new friends, you bring them to see me. Deal?"

Fynta smiled. "Deal. And I need these finished out immediately."

**SIS Headquarters**

Two hours later, Fynta and Jorgan were standing in front of the official Republic Intelligence building. "We need to get our new kit outfitted," she said, patting the bag on her back. "I've got a guy at the SIS who owes me a favor. He can get this stuff pushed through in a couple of hours."

"Seems you've got a guy everywhere," Jorgan grumbled.

"Comes with the territory. Wait here, I'll be right back." Fynta walked up to the door, all their new gear in a large, heavy duffle, and handed a card to the droid guarding it _._ Inside she found the guy she was looking for exactly where she'd left him. "Hey Tor. I've got a favor to ask."

It had only taken fifteen minutes to talk Tor into helping, the kid was a technological genius but incredibly naive. Outside again, Fynta found Jorgan leaning against an artificial tree and still looking surly. Maybe he thought she was acting unprofessionally or maybe the Cathar was just annoyed that she knew more than him for once. Either way Jorgan would have to get over it. If there is anything Fynta knew, it was how to get her hands on supplies.

"An hour and a half," Fynta said, leaning next to him.

Jorgan nodded, keeping his eyes on their surroundings. "Well, what do we do until then?"

"We are going to need a speeder, unless you fancy riding everywhere in taxi." Fynta certainly didn't. "Know anywhere we can get one?"

"Actually, I think I do." Jorgan proffered his datapad. "We can rent one from there on the Republic's dime. Not our own."

So that's what was bugging him, she'd paid for his gear. "Do you carry unmarked credits?"

Jorgan finally looked down at her, one eyebrow ridge raised in a wary kind of way. "No."

"Then Kal wouldn't have taken your money."

The Cathar's lips pressed into a thin line. "That obvious?"

"There's nothing wrong with it, but instead of turning sour just tell me. I don't offend easily and you're more than welcome to pay me back." Fynta paused and smiled. "Once you get some unmarked credits. Otherwise an exchange that large might look suspicious."

Jorgan gave a curt nod, "Noted."

Fynta sighed. "Look, this is new territory for both of us, we'll figure it out though." That was as good a place as any to change the subject. "Let's go see about this speeder."

Turns out Jorgan was a pretty good haggler. He could do passive aggressive as well as he did regularly aggressive. The poor Twi'lek trying to overcharge them for the speeder didn't stand a chance. Two hours later the soldiers were sitting in an open air car in front of the SIS building and Jorgan was happily munching on some of the spiky fruit. At least Fynta assumed that was his version of happily munching. He wasn't complaining and he was on his third piece. Poor guy would probably regret that later.

Fynta decided it would be a good time to check her messages, the private box that only a few people had. As expected, there was a message from her brother, Verin. He and his wife were bounty hunters in the Outer Rim. Mostly he kept his distance, but every now and then he would send Fynta a letter just to let her know he was still alive. She did the same.

_We heard about you're recent promotion. Now don't make that face, we have our sources too. Be careful and remember your training. Don't forget what Cin taught you about tracking down a target. Make sure to be friendly with the locals. Oh and Kal said you stopped by. Glad you finally picked up your birthday present._

_Be safe, V & C_

Fynta smiled despite herself. It had been a few years since she'd seen her brother and not for the first time she wondered when the message would come through saying that Cinlat was pregnant. Those two weren't getting any younger; well past the age when normal Mando'ade had kids.

Next, Fynta checked the official mailbox. Anyone could find this one if they were willing to put in the work. There was a letter was from Private Farn. She'd hoped to hear from the skinny little private since she'd been too tired to find him before leaving Ord Mantell. It read:

_I don't know what's going on. Some officers came into the barracks and took all of Lieutenant Virk's stuff. They told us he was dead!_

_We're all being reassigned. Word is my new CO is a decent guy, so I'm hoping for the best. But I can't believe it, everyone thought Virk was still in the fort somewhere, how did he get killed? Maybe he got some surprise patrol assignment? No idea._

_Anyway, I thought I should let you know. Thanks for hearing me out about that scumball, I guess the problem solved itself._

Jorgan, who'd been folding the bag to stash it under the dash, suddenly cut his eyes over at her. "What is it?"

Fynta's rigid posture must have given her away, few things truly shocked Fynta, but Farn's letter had done the trick. "I might have killed Lieutenant Virk."

Jorgan stared coughing and choking on the piece of fruit he had just bitten off. "You might have what?"

"Virk attacked me the last day on Ord Mantell, said he didn't like that I was getting into his business. Remember?" Fynta turned the datapad towards Jorgan so he could see Farn's letter. "I might have dispatched him too hard."

To Fynta's surprise, Jorgan started laughing. More of a deep, rumble that sounded like a mixture of a cough and a growl. "I wouldn't lose any sleep over it. He had it coming," Jorgan replied with a soft chuckle. "I looked into his file and called the brass on him after our conversation. Virk had one of the highest casualty ratings on the base. Right up there with the infantry boys. That should have raised some alarms, but someone was sleeping on the job. I turned over the recording of your confrontation with him, someone probably got to him in prison."

Fynta respected Jorgan all over again. "Thanks for looking into it. I'd hate to see that kid taken advantage of."

"Kid." Jorgan snorted and looked out over the city and the people therein. He probably thought she was a kid too.

The rest of the messages were ads offering various beautification procedures and enlargements. Fynta shut the screen down just as Tor came striding up to the air car. "All wired up," he said. "I gave it a paint job too, one fitting of Havoc Squad." The kid looked pleased with himself, Fynta was too. Hers armor was black and white, while Jorgan's was a dark silver and white, with the Havoc badge standing out crisply on both. "I added a couple of badge patches too. Havoc's got a reputation."

Badge patches were really handy if you didn't want everyone knowing you were an official soldier. They covered the insignia, flawlessly blending into the armor. "Perfect," Fynta said with a delighted grin.

Tor leaned his elbows on the side of the car and pointed at the two helmets and breastplates, "Now, I've added a little extra in here, but don't go overboard and get me busted. You each have a switch just there," he pointed to a spot near the collar. "That deactivates the camera and microphone as long as you're holding it, that way it can't be accidentally shut off, but if you need a private moment you've got it. They have the latest in biological tech, so you can see whose biology is doing what, climate control, oh and this is cool." He lifted one of the helmets. "These things are pressurized for up to thirty minutes in hard space! You've got to tell me where you got it."

Fynta gave the SIS kid a maternal pat on the head, "Sorry buddy, they don't pay you enough. How's the HUD situation?"

Tor looked crestfallen, but perked up when Fynta asked about one of his gadgets. "Just the way you like it. You've got your official line, personal line, and squad line. Once these babies are locked into place no one can hear you unless you want them to."

"I owe you, Tor."

He returned the helmet and leaned on the car again. "When are you going to let me take you out for that drink?"

Fynta kissed the top of Tor's head and secured the gear in the back seat. "When you're an adult."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Footnotes:
> 
> osik [OH-sik] dung (impolite)
> 
> shabla [SHAH-bla] screwed up - impolite
> 
> Su cuy'gar [Soo COO-ee-gar] Hello - lit. *You're still alive.*
> 
> Ret'urcye mhi [ray-TOOR-shay-MEE] Goodbye - lit. *Maybe we'll meet again*
> 
> Mand'alor [MAHN-dah-lor] sole ruler
> 
> Aliit ori'shya tal'din [Ah-LEET-or-EESH-yah-tal-DEEN] Family is more than blood. (Saying.)
> 
> aliit (clan) [ah-LEET] family
> 
> beskar [BESK-gar] Mandalorian iron


	4. Thrill of the Catch

**Taris  
** **Lower City Ruins**

"I've got more blood over here," Verin reported from an overturned medical supply crate. "We're still on the trail."

Cinlat joined him, finding a tarp stretched between two pieces of ruined buildings, an empty water canteen, and a still warm heat lamp. "He hasn't gotten too far. You sure you just hit him with the electronet? We've seen a lot of blood."

Verin's shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. "Must've done something to himself when he blew up his stash of weapons. It was a pretty desperate move."

"Nearly took your head off," Cinlat muttered. "I just hope the shabuir isn't dead by the time we find him. I'd like to have a few words with him first."

"I'll bet."

Cinlat was tired of trudging through Taris's swamps. They'd been tracking Rhed for five hours and had ventured dangerously close to Republic territory. Imperials hired bounty hunters openly, most of the time. However, the Republic still had to put up a front that they were the better person. Even though she was welcome in Republic spacestations, they watched every Mandalorian and known bounty hunter carefully. What better way to get out of paying, than to arrest the offender and blackmail them into doing the dirty work.

Cinlat was starting to get testy. "So is chasing a wounded man across a mutant infested cesspit part of the _Geroya be Haran_ too? Or is he making the rules up as he goes?"

"I'm pretty sure he's supposed to stand and fight once we flush him out," Verin answered. "Guess that makes this like any other job now. Track him down and eliminate him."

"Good. Should have done that in the first place." Cinlat's back was already stiff from the last shot she'd taken. "I'm so glad the Mand'alor wants this guy dead. I'm not sure I'd be able to restrain myself otherwise."

"You going for a clean kill when we find him?"

Verin wanted to know if she planned on torturing the shabuir, or just putting a bolt through his skull and calling it a night. "Depends on how grouchy I am when we find him."

"If you want my preference. Get it out of your system on him, then go home happy with me."

Cinlat found she was smiling in spite of herself. Verin must be feeling guilty about letting her take the challenge, she should probably stop whining and get the job done. After all, the man was in his sixties, he might be tough, but he was still old and just as uncomfortable as she was at the moment. "Sounds like a plan, riduur."

They continued on for another hour in solemn silence. Then Verin's shoulder jerked back and he fell flat on his back with a grunt. "Ha! You're a real spitfire," Rhed called from his perch on top of one of the crumbling walls before dropping down on the other side.

Cinlat's rippers were in her hand and she started firing while Verin scrambled back up to his feet. "Okay, I deserved that."

"You kind of did," Cinlat replied. At least now Verin knew what it felt like to be hit with that rifle.

Cinlat stalked carefully through a hole in the structure, all her HUD's programs scanning for life, a heat signature, or, shab, she'd take anything. "If I were young again, I might take you as a bride, girl," Rhed's voice echoed off the walls. Turns out there was still a lot of building left standing in this area, making him more difficult to pinpoint.

"She's taken," Verin answered in a tight voice.

"He's a little young for you, from what I hear," Rhed called back. He was stalling, but Cinlat wasn't sure why yet.

"What can I say, I like a guy with stamina." Cinlat heard footsteps, the signature sound of heavily armored feet, and it sounded like he was dragging one of them.

"Let's finish this. This game's gone on long enough."

The voice was directly above her. Cinlat barely had enough time to roll out of the way before Rhed landed on top of her. It was the first time she'd gotten a good look at the man outside his wanted holo. He was a bulky guy with a scarred face, shaved head, and a full, grey beard. Cinlat was lying on her back, firing her rippers into his chest plate, but Rhed's armor was the same as hers, so it wasn't doing any good. That, and she couldn't get her arms high enough to aim for his head. Neither of them were going to be able to blast their way out of this, so it was down to who had more skill and the stronger will to survive.

Rhed kicked Cinlat's ripper from her left hand and stomped a foot down on her wrist. It didn't really hurt, but she wasn't going to get any use out of it unless she got it free. The man grabbed Cinlat's right wrist with his free hand and bent it back so that the barrel of her blaster was aimed away from him. Using his hold on her for leverage, Cinlat rolled back and brought both feet up into his crotch. Beskar or no, it was enough force to make the man stagger, loosening his hold on her. Being short had its advantages. Cinlat took the opportunity to roll away and get back to her feet.

Rhed was stooped over and laughing. "You fight dirty. I like that in a woman."

He lunged for her just as Verin rocketed out of one of the doorways and collided with him. The two men grappled until Verin came up on top, pinning Rhed's arms with his knees, and wailing on the man until he was spitting blood. A gauntlet with a miniature flame thrower attached had a lot of weight behind it and Cinlat could hear the bones giving with each punch. If she didn't step in soon, Verin would beat the man to death. However, Rhed was stubborn and that might take a while.

"Get clear, Verin," Cinlat said, aiming her remaining blaster at the man's temple. Verin rose smoothly to his feet, all the while Rhed laughed through bloodied teeth. It was more of a gurgle since Verin had thoroughly flattened the guy's nose, and with the amount of blood pouring from both nose and mouth, there was no way he was breathing easily. Cinlat squeezed the trigger, just like that, Rhed Jut was dead and the Blacklist bounty was theirs. She figured they'd take a week off to recuperate, maybe go somewhere nice.

"What do you say we get back to the ship and call it a night?" Verin asked, the angle of his helmet indicating that he was still staring at the corpse.

"I'd say that sounds like the best idea I've heard in days," Cinlat replied as she squatted to scan the blood to confirm the biological identity for turn in. Then she stood and gave the body one last kick for good measure.

Verin slung his arm around Cinlat's shoulders and together they walked back to the speeder. "I warned him you were taken."

**D-5 Mantis  
Four hours later**

Cinlat reached across the small table and grabbed the cup of 'caf that Verin had poured for himself. Customs hadn't had a reason to hold them up since they weren't carting a body and Verin had been more than happy to leave Rhed in the swamps to be scavenged by rakghouls. He and Cin hadn't wasted any time getting off Taris and jumping to hyperspace towards Hutt space. If there was anywhere a bounty hunter could take a few days off without being hassled, it was in a sector of the galaxy controlled by the Hutt cartel.

"I'm thinking Nar Shaddaa," Cinlat said when he didn't acknowledge the theft of his drink. "We could swing by the old place and take it easy for a few days."

Verin heard her, it just didn't occur to him to respond until Cinlat kicked him under the table. Even though she'd removed all her armor, it still hurt enough to get his attention. "Right, sorry. That sounds good. Maybe we can get HK, I bet he's bored," he responded without looking up.

"What are you reading?" Cinlat stood and moved around behind Verin to look over his shoulder. "Ah." A contact on Coruscant had sent a message saying that Fynta had been seen in the Black Sun's territory in the company of a large male. If it had been anywhere else, Verin wouldn't have worried, but he and his little sister had some pretty substantial grievances with that gang. Cinlat knew all about it, of course, and pointed over his shoulder to the part at the bottom. "Says she was in the Migrant Merchant Guild's territory too. I don't think she went back for revenge." Cinlat kissed the top of his head. "Besides, you know Fynta wouldn't go after those hut'uun without you."

Knowing Cinlat was right didn't stop Verin from wanting to contact Fynta to see what she was up to. His little sister had just been promoted to lieutenant of an elite commando squad, although he didn't know which one. She was probably there on more pressing business than old vendettas. Verin knew he shouldn't contact her anyway. If the Republic found out that her brother was as disreputable as he was, it might hurt her when it came to further advancement. Fynta had carved out a life for herself and he needed to leave it alone.

"You're right." Verin deleted the message and tilted his head back for a better kiss. "Nar Shaddaa sounds good. We need to contact the others first and turn in our bounty, though."

"Just about to head there." Cinlat was wearing a simple black shirt and sensible pants. Her white hair was damp and fell over her shoulders. His wife was unique in the galaxy, at least Verin had never seen anyone like her before. Cinlat's eyes were completely white and the irises glowed, her hair matched, being utterly devoid of color with extremely pale skin. She also sported three jagged scars that ran from her hairline, down over her left eye, all the way to her chin. Cinlat said those were given to her by the last Cathar she'd fought in the pits on Hutta. That was just before she met up with some people who thought she'd be able to hold her own in the Great Hunt. This was all a long time before Verin met her, and Cinlat didn't talk about those days often. What little bits he had gleaned were usually after a passionate roll in the hay, when Cinlat would let her guard down.

Jumping up behind her, Verin grabbed Cinlat's arm and pulled his wife back to him in and attempt to make up for ignoring her a few moments earlier. Wrapping his arms around her waist, Verin buried his face in Cinlat's still damp hair. "Let's make the turn in fast," he whispered, nuzzling her neck. "I've got a few ideas on how to start our vacation."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Footnotes:
> 
> Geroya be Haran. The Game of Annihilation
> 
> Mand'alor [MAHN-dah-lor] sole ruler
> 
> Shabuir: [SHAH-boo-EER] extreme insult - *jerk*, but much stronger
> 
> Riduur: [REE-door] partner, spouse, husband, wife
> 
> Shab: excrement (used as a curse)
> 
> Beskar: [BESK-gar] Mandalorian iron
> 
> hut'uun: [hoo-TOON] coward (worst possible insult)


	5. New Horizons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coruscant was a bit boring, so while I've actually written these missions out, we are just going to gloss over it and assumed it happened.

 

**Coruscant  
** **Republic Military Base**

Fynta and Jorgan had reported to the barracks for the rest of the day after that debacle in the Black Sun sector while Garza worked out where she wanted Havoc to go next. Unfortunately, Fynta had let old grievances get the better of her, add on top of that insubordination and her day was going to hell in a hurry. Only two other squads were in the commando wing, which made the place pretty empty, so Fynta had set out to find some entertainment and blow of steam. Jorgan had chosen to watch from the sideline while she played game of boloball with a dozen other soldiers. The game had ended with one man receiving a broken nose when he got a little too handsy with the other female soldier involved. She was a big Devaronion and Fynta wondered why any man in his right mind would try anything inappropriate with a woman with horns. Fynta had taken up position next to Jorgan to watch the show. No one else seemed to be stepping in to help the man out either.

One hour later they were sitting in the mess with a steaming bowl of stir fried veggies for Jorgan and a nice, big nerf steak for Fynta. As she started in on her food, Fynta noted the stolen glances from the soldiers around them. A lot of them seemed to be centered on her. It finally got the better of her and she leaned across the table to whisper to Jorgan, "Do I have something on my face?"

Jorgan glanced up, his eyes flicked to her tattoo, then around them. "Everyone knows Tavus commanded Havoc Squad. Probably wondering who you are." He took another spoonful of veggies and shrugged, "I don't think Garza understands how hard it will be to keep his defection a secret, especially when you are most definitely not Tavus."

Fynta locked eyes with one of the troopers across the room who'd been pointing at her. The man looked away quickly, his face reddening. His buddies got a kick out of it, one of them shoved him hard in the back. "Go on, then!" He said overly loud. The table erupted in laughter again and the soldier hunkered down over his food.

"I could always tell them I decided to have a sex-change operation and it went exceptionally well," Fynta remarked absently.

Jorgan started coughing, pounding his chest to work out whatever had gone down the wrong pipe. "That would certainly make rumor mill history, sir."

Fynta grinned, it wasn't intended to be a joke, just a random thought. Jorgan was right though, it would make the rounds fast. "I wouldn't mind seeing Tavus's face when it got back to him."

That actually got a rumble of laughter from her Cathar companion, until another man approached the table and stopped, staring down at them. Both Havoc members looked up. "Can I help you, sergeant?" Jorgan asked in a tone that said this had better be important.

"Those look like Havoc patches," the man said, crossing his arms. "You two aren't listed as Havoc members though. Care to explain where you got them?"

"You know how paperwork is in the army," Fynta remarked, cutting off another piece of nerf. She noted the distinct MP on the red band on his left sleeve.

"That's not regulation armor either," the man said a little louder this time. He was starting to attract attention.

Fynta shrugged. "Personal armor is allowed in SpecForce, I'm sure you're aware of that."

"I'd like to see your IDs, sirs." The man held out one hand. The guy was just doing his duty, keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity, but Fynta wasn't feeling charitable at the moment.

Jorgan stood up to give the kid a stern lecture but stopped when he heard their holo buzzing. Fynta had an idea. She flipped her glove over on the table, palm up, and pressed the manual accept button within. "General, we were just sitting down to dinner, what can I do for you?" Fynta asked, keeping her eyes on the soldier.

"Sorry to interrupt that dinner, Lieutenant, but new information has become available. I need you both back here on the double. Garza out." The image vanished back into the miniature holo just as quickly as it had appeared. It was clear from the man's expression that he was regretting his previous attitude because everyone in that room knew Garza ran SpecForce on Coruscant.

Fynta casually stood and pulled on her gloves, "I'm assuming you won't be needing those IDs anymore, _sergeant_."

"No, sir. Sorry to have disturbed your meal." The man took two steps back, then gave a stiff turn and made for the exit. Everyone else went back to eating.

Fynta glanced at her half eaten steak and sighed. "Come on, Jorgan, let's grab the rest of our gear."

Jorgan fell in step beside her with a small smile on his lips. "You know, you can be pretty scary when you put your mind to it."

"You haven't seen anything yet. Remember, we're in this for the long haul." Jorgan's smile slipped and Fynta laughed harder.

**Taris  
Spaceport**

"This place used to rival Coruscant? Blasted Sith must have laid down some serious ordnance," Jorgan was saying, but Fynta was only partially listening. When Garza said the planet had been leveled, she hadn't been exaggerating. Massive slabs of duracreet and plasteel jutted up from the ground like jagged teeth. The buildings that were built up against these ruins looked like shacks by comparison, being cobbled together by scrap metal scavenged from the surrounding area. The ground was still littered with bombed out craters and deep fissures. There was evidence of new construction everywhere, but it didn't appear to be making any progress.

Just from what they had encountered so far, Fynta had a feeling of dread. The situation looked bleak and the beings who inhabited the area mirrored that outlook. Everyone wore the same haggard faces of refugees, not proud citizens. Maybe it was just her imagination, but Fynta's gut told her this was going to be a pain in the shebs mission.

"Let's move out," Fynta snapped without meaning to.

Havoc's contact was a colonel named Gaff. The colonel's aid answered the commlink when Fynta called to arrange their meeting. She'd barely stated her name and rank when he cut her off, "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, the Colonel is busy at the moment. Perhaps we can set you up in some lodging until he can see you."

If Garza hadn't ordered Fynta to play nice she would have marched up to the colonel's door and pounded on it until he answered. After punching out this smug little shabuir, of course. "Do you know when he will become available? My mission is time sensitive." It was somewhat true.

"I'm sorry, sir. He is involved in a lot of projects."

Fynta sighed, "Fine. Just point us in the direction and we'll find our own lodging." The cocky lieutenant rattled off directions to the military officer's barracks and hung up.

Shabby didn't begin to describe the state of the barracks. They were filthy, breezy, and depressing. The bare metal walls were rusted and everything smelled of stagnant, wet dirt. Jorgan snorted. "If these are the officer's rooms, I'd hate to see where the regular soldiers sleep."

So far, the place was pretty sparsely inhabited. A few closed doors with tags marked them as occupied while the others stood open, revealing that each room had two beds. "Don't mind sharing, do you?" Fynta asked. For once she wasn't teasing, it would be more effectual if they were in the same place when the colonel finally summoned them. Jorgan grunted a response and nudged one of the doors open with his boot. The beds were bare, spare linens folded at the bottom, and a single desk with an antiquated computer terminal. That was it.

"Nice place," Jorgan said, hands on hips.

"Oh yeah, all it needs is a fresh coat of paint," Fynta grumbled. It was already nightfall on Taris, so Fynta relented. "I suppose the colonel's turned in for the evening. We'll wait until morning."

Morning came and went. Then Afternoon, then the next evening. Fynta called in every three hours to harass the aid until he eventually stopped taking her calls on the afternoon of the second day. So, she left a message. "I will see the colonel tomorrow."

Jorgan wasn't in any better spirits than herself, but didn't seem keen on missing the chance for a good night's sleep. He dozed quietly in in the other bed, Fynta marking the time by counting the steady rhythm of his breathing. The man was incredibly efficient, even while he slept. Fynta estimated it was nearing sunup when she decided it was time to root out Colonel Gaff. She'd had enough of the runaround and needed to get on with her objective. Plus, Jorgan was getting restless. He'd spent hours pacing the small room and muttering. A bored Cathar was not pleasant company.

Fynta rolled up to a sitting position and squinted into the dark to where she knew Jorgan was sleeping. Her boots were right where she'd left them, so getting those on would be a simple enough task. Both helmets were at the foot of her bed since Fynta's feet didn't quite touch the end and their rifles were by the door. Fynta's eyes were adjusted enough to the low light in the room to make her way across to the dark lump in the other bed. Although figuring out where Jorgan's head was would be more of an educated guess.

"Jorgan," Fynta said, not loud enough to startle him, but not quite a whisper. He didn't stir.

Fynta risked reaching out to touch what she assumed was his shoulder. "Jorgan, wake up," she whispered a little louder, giving him a quick shake. The only indication that the Cathar had woken was the sudden appearance of two, faintly shining blue eyes. It was fascinating. Fynta knew Cathar eyes had a reflective quality but seeing them like this was almost breath taking.

"What's wrong?" Jorgan asked in a tone that didn't sound remotely sleep muttled.

"How well can you see me?" It hadn't been what Fynta meant to say, but she was completely captivated by those eyes.

"What?" It clearly hadn't been what Jorgan was expecting either.

"How well can you see detail in the dark, I mean?"

Fynta felt Jorgan shift under her hand and realized she was propped on his chest, not his shoulder. That explained the stare, at least. Sitting back, Fynta settled herself on the edge of the bed with her right leg curled beneath her. Jorgan's eyes seemed to glow brighter. "Better than you can see me, I take it."

"Your eyes are fascinating," Fynta said, leaning forward again and squinting more. "I wouldn't mind seeing the world through your eyes for a day."

"Is that why you woke me up?" Fynta didn't need to be able to see Jorgan's face to read his expression.

Fynta slapped a hand down on Jorgan's leg, at least she hoped it was his leg, he didn't yelp. "No, I'm tired of waiting. We're paying our friendly colonel a visit and I'm not taking no for an answer. We leave in ten minutes."

"Finally." The mattress shifted as Jorgan rolled away and a blinding light burned Fynta's eyes. He'd flipped on the lamp.

"Shabuir," Fynta growled, shielding her eyes.

"Human eyes adjust too slowly." Fynta could hear his smirk, even if she could see it yet.

**Olaris Republic Outpost**

"We need transportation," Fynta commented as they walked through the wreckage of the once amazing city world. The two had moved past their disagreement over Sergeant Dorne. The woman had all the markings of an Imperial; her smooth face was stern, blond hair tied back in accordance with military guidelines, and the rigid posture that accompanied a frosty personality. Not to mention the accent. Fynta had bristled when Jorgan voice his opinion on the woman being uptight, which led to a heated discussion on the variety of personalities it takes to run an army and the importance of first impressions.

Shaking the thoughts away, Jorgan spotted a speeder vendor off to the left. The vehicles looked like junk and the Rodian selling them didn't exactly give off a legitimate businessman impression. Jorgan hated to do it, but it was the only option he saw, so he pointed it out to lieutenant.

"Lovely," Fynta said, echoing his own feelings. It took several minutes of haggling and Jorgan was certain Fynta was going for her weapon at one point, but at last they reached an agreement, making off with a speeder that while grimy, was in good working order. The guards stopped them at the gate for routine questioning, but let them pass as soon as they saw the Havoc badges.

As they waved he and Fynta through, Jorgan looked back. "I've seen the look in those guards' eyes a thousand times. They're expecting trouble." Fynta merely nodded, she wasn't her normal self here either. This planet felt heavy, almost like he couldn't get a good lung full of oxygen, and Jorgan's heart was racing. He couldn't wait to get off it.

**Lower City Ruin  
** **Hot Zone**

The first and second set of coordinates from Sergeant Dorne had led Havoc to some scattered power converters and busted up crates. The last set, however, brought them to an abandoned camp. Items were thrown about, tents destroyed, and fires trampled. All obvious signs of a struggle. Jorgan parked the speeder and the two began to search for clues again. A weight sat in Fynta's stomach, something was off, more off than before. The whole planet had gone to hell, but this felt urgent. Those little cues that only the subconscious could pick up on because the higher brain was too busy trying to make sense of what it was missing.

"Jorgan, be on guard," Fynta whispered into her headset. Funny how whispering always became the default, even when they were soundproofed inside their armor.

"Yes, sir," came his equally quiet reply.

Fynta tightened her grip on her rifle and pushed further into the ransacked camp. Something rustled inside the tent but before she had a chance to call out a warning to Jorgan, Fynta was on the ground with her rifle stock jammed into the foaming mouth of a rakghoul. It clamped its jaws around the gun and began jerking back and forth, trying to wrench the weapon from her hands. She was still trying to recover from the shock of the attack when blaster bolts hit the ground beside her. A quick glance to the right showed Jorgan similarly engaged with a couple of humanoid bandits. One man had grabbed Jorgan's rifle and the two were locked in a stand off until Jorgan managed to smash the stock into the man's face and kick him to the ground. Fynta didn't see what happened next, but she heard the Cathar growl and his rifle discharge.

Fynta ejected the blade from her gauntlet and jammed it into the creatures gaping maw. It shuttered violently, then fell limp. Rolling over onto her knees, Fynta saw another one bearing down on her. She pivoted on one knee behind a ripped up tent and took aim through one of the holes. Fynta finally brought her weapon to bare and took out the rakghoul at only five paces away. Satisfied that they were no longer a threat, she stood to find Jorgan. The Cathar was flipping over one of the corpses with his rifle trained on it. Then his shoulders relaxed and he gave her the signal that the threat had been neutralized. It was only after everything had calmed down that Fynta noticed the incessant buzzing of her comm.

"Lieutenant! Status report. Are you injured?"

Fynta knelt next to one of the bodies that Jorgan had dispatched. "Everything is fully operational," she responded to Dorne, leaning closer to examine their attackers while Jorgan watched their surroundings.

"Good. There's so much to do." It sounded like the sergeant was running. "Your attackers were scavengers. Threat assessment reports classify them as a non-combatant group." Dorne paused. "That classification is clearly inaccurate. I'll notify command immediately."

Fynta broke in at the first opportunity. "Dorne! I need to know where these scavengers came from, their numbers, and armaments."

"Orbital scans just managed to pinpoint the location of the scavengers' compound last week," Dorne said as the information flooded Fynta's HUD. "I'll scramble my team and prep them immediately. We'll effect entry to the compound once you've created an opening."

"I'll see you on the other side, Sergeant," Fynta said, leveling her tone now that she had the woman's full attention again. Fynta's gut told her these scavengers had left a trail to an ambush for a reason.

"Good luck, Lieutenant. And you, Sergeant. Dorne out."

"Sir, we'd best get moving before we attract more rakghouls," Jorgan said from behind her.

Fynta rose to her feet again and gave her companion a once over. "You weren't bitten?"

Jorgan's helmet shook side to side. "I only had the humans. The rakghouls liked you better. Were you bitten?"

Fynta turned a tight circle, arms held out. "I don't think so. See anything?" She doubted their teeth could pierce her armor, but there were always weak spots.

Jorgan examined her carefully. "Looks good." Fynta wished she could have seen the Cathar's face through the helmet when he hastily followed it up with a growled, "I mean it doesn't look like you were bitten." Her completely inappropriate comment died on her tongue. Which was extremely disappointing; Fynta could use a little flirty banter about now.

**The Sinking City  
** **Recently Discovered Fallenspire Stronghold**

Taris was a big planet and it took a long time to get anywhere. The coordinates for the scavengers' hideout were just passed the Endar Spire. It didn't look like the scavengers were expecting a counter attack, because there were no guards posted. The two Havoc soldiers entered unchallenged and took a lift to the subfloor. At the bottom, Fynta, used her foot to ease one of the doors open. Inside was a large, open room ringed by cells, a solitary chamber being occupied by three soldiers, one of them clearly injured.

"You! You're from the Republic!" A young soldier pressed himself against the glass to get a better look at them, the man's face went white and he focused behind them. "Watch out! There's a huge . . . thing guarding us, and—" The floor shook. Both Fynta and Jorgan spun to face the wide door at the end of the room. A large beast, something akin to a five meter tall rakghoul, came lumbering in.

"Fierfek," Fynta breathed as the creature bellowed and started running. The monster's large gate allowed it to cross the room in just a few steps. Jorgan opened fire immediately while Fynta managed to get off three shots before a massive arm swung around to knock her off her feet.

"You alright, sir?" Fynta didn't answer and he couldn't go looking for her. Jorgan flipped the switch on his rifle to automatic and sent an endless stream of green bolts at the giant rakghoul, serving only to make the thing angrier. Jorgan found himself dodging back and forth to avoid the enormous fists. To top it all off, his weapon was blinking a warning that its charge was running low. He paused just long enough to slam a new charge pack into the rifle, giving the rakghoul the opening it needed. The next moment Jorgan was lifted off his feet and slamming into something that felt more solid than he did. His vision swam, but Jorgan could still make out the large, hulking figure tramping towards him. All attempts to stand were proving difficult and the figure was getting closer. He was aware of yelling from behind and someone pounding on glass.

Jorgan's vision cleared in time to see the rakghoul lift two massive fists above its head. Jorgan aimed his weapon and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened. When he'd been hit, the charged pack had not been inserted properly and must have flown out. His gun was useless. There was nothing left to do but brace for the impact and hope his armor was as good as the lieutenant claimed. The rakghoul roared in triumph, then its face went slack and it stumbled to the side, hitting the floor with enough force to shake the whole room. Behind it, stood Fynta, her rifle smoking and blood covering the left side of her face from a wound somewhere in her hairline. Jorgan loosely registered that Fynta should be wearing a helmet and he had no idea where it was.

Jorgan was just getting his feet under him when Fynta came over and offered a hand. "Are you hurt?" She asked, pulling the Cathar the rest of the way up with some effort. Jorgan waited for the room to stop spinning, then shook his head to clear the rest of the fog. Without thinking, he grabbed Fynta's face in both hands and pulled it close to his own, his added height allowing him to examine the wound on top of her head with ease.

"It's not deep," Jorgan breathed. Fynta's hair was a matted mess but he could see there was no serious damage done.

"Thanks," Fynta mumbled into his palms, "Can I have my face back?"

Jorgan let go. "Sorry, sir."

Fynta smiled and patted his shoulder, "I appreciate your concern. But we've got a job to do." She nodded at the control panel for the cell shields and went off in search of her helmet.

"Yes, sir." Jorgan retrieved his charge pack from the floor near the creature's head, which now had a large hole in it and was leaking green fluid onto the dirt floor. Fynta must have overloaded the core in her weapon to create a wound of that size. Which would also explain why the barrel of that ratty gun was still smoking. Shaking his head, Jorgan slapped his palm down on the release button to drop the shields.

"Whoa! Who are you? You took that thing down easy!" One of the prisoners said. Fynta was kneeling, checking on the wounded soldier, seemingly oblivious to the blood she was dripping onto the floor beside him. Jorgan snorted and flexed his shoulder. It hadn't felt easy.

"Commanding officer, Havoc Squad," Fynta answered without looking up. She had already begun questioning the wounded soldier, ignoring any further inquiries.

"You're kidding. They actually sent Havoc Squad after us?" The man continued on in his manic excitement, "I'm Ensign Tane, sir. It's a good thing you found us, the scavengers were going to ship us off to some guy named Needles as soon as we healed up."

Jorgan grabbed the ensign's collar, "Needles? You're sure?" Fynta appeared satisfied with the wounded soldier's replies and joined Aric in questioning the energetic soldier.

Tane nodded, "Yes, I'm one hundred percent sure. And I heard that—"

"Here they are! Cav, Goran—cover the exit. Vise, Marko, Tabber—see to these men's wounds." Dorne led her men in and began putting them to work with an impressive efficiency.

Tane rolled his eyes. "Oh great. Sergeant Dorne's here to make sure we get stomped according to regulation."

Jorgan saw Fynta's eyes narrow at the man. Dorne approached, gave Fynta an appraising eye, nodded to herself, and then turned her attention to Tane. "Report, Ensign. Did you learn anything about the enemy?"

"Uh, yes, sir, Sergeant, sir," Tane said in a mocking tone. "As I was just telling the lieutenant here, we were captured for some guy named Needles." Then he looked back at Fynta. "And get this: There are Imps here; on Taris! They're working with this Needles guy in a hidden base out in the swamps."

Fynta crossed her arms, "Sounds like you overheard quite a bit."

"Yes, sir, Lieutenant. The scavengers were pretty sloppy about talking in front of us." Tane gave sergeant an unpleasant smile. "So, are you excited, Dorne? You'll finally have the chance to correct your old buddies' paperwork again!" The man clapped his hands, amused by his own wit, while Dorne showed no sign of emotion.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Fynta asked with a raised eyebrow.

Dorne turned grey eyes on the lieutenant. "Many of the local troopers feel that my adherence to the regulations is a result of my upbringing. I was born Imperial. However, after two years' service in the Imperial military, I defected. Given my extensive knowledge and training, I was awarded this position under Service Code 37-R." Fynta nodded, but didn't say anything, so Dorne continued, "But, we can discuss non-mission-critical issues later. My team and I will get these men back to base, Lieutenant. You proceed with your mission against Needles and his Imperial installation." The woman turned on her heel and left without another word.

"Well, I suppose that explains that," Jorgan said, watching the retreating sergeant. Two years in Imperial service. He'd never met an Imperial defector before, making Elara Dorne a lot more intriguing. Fynta glanced at him, but again didn't speak. She seemed disturbed by something that she wasn't ready to share yet. If there was anything that Jorgan had learned, it was that Fynta wouldn't utter a word until she had it figured out or had given up.

Fynta snagged Ensign Tane by the back of the neck as he passed and lowered her voice, "Sergeant Dorne defied a direct order from Colonel Gaff in order to get us out here to find you." She released the man with a rough shove. "I suggest you show her the due respect."

Tane swallowed hard and nodded, "Yes, sir. Apologies, sir." Dorne had proven herself loyal to men who clearly didn't share the sentiment, and it had won Fynta's respect.

One of the medics approached and motioned for Fynta to sit. She did so without complaint, but only on the condition that Jorgan be checked next. She was a soldier right now, nothing safe and familiar to joke about, only the mission at hand. Normally Jorgan would be concerned over such a dramatic shift in personality, maybe think the stress was getting to her, but the lieutenant's expression was calculated, not frazzled.

"You're working on something, aren't you?" Jorgan finally asked, sitting across from his CO on the floor so he could see her face while the medic stitched the head wound. Fynta had accepted a rag to clean some of the blood away from her eye but was only managing to smear it around. Jorgan considered offering to help, but after his reaction earlier, chose to leave it between her and the medic. Eventually, Fynta gave up and started examining her helmet.

"That Ensign said that they were being prepared to be taken to the Imps. I'm thinking it must be close, there are no vehicles around. So they would need to walk the prisoners." Fynta bobbed the rag in Jorgan's direction for emphasis, wincing each time the medic added a new stitch.

Jorgan nodded, "So we are going deeper?"

Fynta grinned and he ignored it. At least she was started to act like herself again. "Yep. Although, I hope that creature was a one-time mutant thing. I don't fancy facing another." The lieutenant sighed and then cast her eyes up at the man stitching her together. "Are you done yet? We needed to move out ten minutes ago."

"All done," the medic said, clipping the thread with his shears. Then he motioned for Jorgan to move closer. After a quick check it was determined that Aric had a mild head trauma, nothing that required immediate aid. It was Jorgan's first concussion. Fynta congratulated him and gave the _move out_ order.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> Fierfek: a Huttese slang word that meant "hex" or "curse," but was commonly accepted to mean "poison" by non-Huttese-speaking races. Later adopted as an expletive.
> 
> shabuir [SHAH-boo-EER] extreme insult - *jerk*, but much stronger
> 
> shebs [shebs] backside, rear, buttocks


	6. Pest Eradication

**Taris  
En route to Olaris Base**

Fynta's head hurt and she was pretty sure Jorgan was feeling sore given his stiff movement. She was looking forward to finding Needles, he needed to become better acquainted with her blaster. Fynta drove this time, parking in front of the base to rendezvous with Sergeant Dorne when she had information ready for them. The Transport System was vast, Dorne said it would take some time to do the complex tests that the woman had explained in detail. Fynta hadn't even attempted to follow, she only cared that it worked.

The plan for now was to hit the refreshers, clean her weapon, and getting some food, in that order. "You hungry?" Jorgan asked, breaking their surly silence. Neither had spoken since they'd left Thorus's body in that dank operating room.

"I need to clean up first." Fynta propped her rifle on her shoulder and started towards the door. "Maybe later."

Later came when Fynta was in the mess hall cleaning her rifle over a bowl of oatmeal, her stomach having decided she should multitask. Jorgan claimed the seat across from her and began eating his own food in silence. Every now and then the Cathar would study her over his bowl and just when Fynta thought he was going to speak, he took another bite. She finished cleaning her weapon, set it aside, and steepled her fingers under her chin to wait in silence. Fynta knew Jorgan had something on his mind and she was going to sit here until he decided how he was going to say it. Cinlat did it to Verin all the time.

"You alright?" Jorgan finally asked. It wasn't what Fynta was expecting and her expression must have shown it because he smiled, just a fraction.

Eventually, Fynta nodded. "I'm fine. A visit to the refresher does wonders for a girl, although I can't wait until I can wash my hair properly again." Her hair was still matted with dried blood, her scalp being too sensitive to clean thoroughly. But Fynta had managed to get a brush through the rest and re-braid it.

Jorgan stared at her, his expression completely blank for a change. "You know that isn't what I meant." For the first time, his ice blue eyes seemed piercing and uncomfortable.

"I know," Fynta replied as she sat straighter, more defensive. "I've taken a life before. We both have." Granted, not usually in cold blood. Thorus had surrendered, he was unarmed, yet she'd ended him none-the-less. Fynta didn't even feel guilty about it, perhaps Jorgan thought she should.

Jorgan studied her for another moment, then said, "Okay," and continued eating.

Fynta's com chirped, text only message from Elara Dorne, thus ending their strange conversation. "Looks like it's time to go."

**The Tularan Marsh**

Fynta was driving this time, giving Jorgan a chance to reflect on their bleak surroundings on the way to the coordinates the sergeant provided. The sun was rising, which added an extra glow to the poisonous swamps around them. It made everything look exceptionally green, which he found both beautiful and disturbing all at once. As they passed by more giant chunks of durasteel and plastoid, Jorgan wondered if the Republic would ever get this planet back to the way it was.

"What is your opinion of Sergeant Dorne?"

After nearly two hours of silence, Fynta's question made him jump. "She seems thorough, pays great attention to detail, and I've heard the men mention that she isn't bad as a field medic either. All and all, she is everything the Republic could want in a single soldier."

Fynta nodded her agreement, but didn't speak on it again, so Jorgan watched the navascreen. "How did you lose your helmet back there?" He asked. It had been bugging him. These things were supposed to be airtight, but a rancor sized rakghoul had popped it right off.

"One of the latches was slightly bent, I've already put in a message to Kal to check his stock better. He said I should have picked it up years ago when Verin ordered it," Fynta responded. "I noticed it wasn't completely sealed when we landed, but airtight didn't seem to be of importance." She was watching the road in front of them, traveling a relatively safe speed. Obviously there was something else on her mind.

"Is it fixed now?"

Fynta nodded. Jorgan wasn't ready to lapse back into silence, so he asked another question that had been bugging him. "You were engaged to him?"

That got a little bit of a smile from her. "Not exactly. We were in the same clan and our parents agreed we'd be a good match after we completed the verd'goten." Fynta glanced over at Jorgan. "Our version of a rite of passage. It tests us, to see if we are truly Mando'ade, usually taken at the age of thirteen. Afterward, the child is considered an adult and expected to pull their weight in the clan. Marriage prospects are considered after that as well. Oh, and the new adult's parents treat them to their first drink."

Fynta's smile was nostalgic, but Jorgan felt horrified. "They were going to marry you off at thirteen?" He knew Mandalorians started young, but an arranged marriage between thirteen years old was hard to swallow.

"What? No!" Then Fynta started laughing. "No, marriage isn't an option until sixteen, at the youngest, although generally speaking, twenty is considered old." She was still chuckling when she added, "The parents simply begin watching to see who they believe would be a good match and encourage their children in that respect. But the choice is down to the individuals. Kal and I became close, but I don't think either of us expected to be more than clan." Jorgan grunted as he motioned that they were nearing their destination. Mandalorians were as odd as they were brutal.

Fynta pulled the speeder to a stop and looked around. They were parked in front of an opening to the underground transport system that smelled more like a sewer, with the cries of rakghouls echoing from within. The two commandos shared a glance, slipped their helmets on, and trudged inside.

"What is it with these city worlds and their underground systems?" Fynta asked.

"It's the only place rats know to go."

Jorgan heard Fynta chuckle. "Good answer."

**Olaris Outpost  
** **SAR Command**

The mission was finally complete, yet Fynta felt no contentment, even though it had immensely satisfying to put that bolt through Dorant's skull. She stopped just outside the SAR command building and crossed her arms while facing her subordinate. "Okay, out with it. You disagree with my decision to destroy the serum, don't you?"

Jorgan had that grim set to his mouth that made him look like he'd tasted something that he didn't know if he should swallow or spit out. The man had never been shy about sharing his opinion before the demotion, and Fynta wished he'd get back to that sometimes. There weren't any other ways of telling Jorgan that he could always speak freely, so now she'd just drag it out of him.

"I think Research Division could have created a counter agent, or perhaps discovered some beneficial use for it. Yes," the Cathar finally admitted.

"I suppose you're right," Fynta admitted. It hadn't been a decision she'd made lightly. "Suppose they decided to release it on an Imperial world? That would end a war pretty quickly, don't you think?" All of those people, in the same pain that soldier had gone through. Traitor or no, the chakaar hadn't deserved that. Not to mention the backlash from the appalled Republic worlds.

Jorgan gave her a measuring stare. "I'd like to think the Republic is responsible enough to handle it properly. I believe Garza would turn it over to the appropriate people."

Fynta was silent for a moment. Jorgan's patriotism was to be admired, but there was patriotism, then there was blind faith. Fynta sighed, "I wish I shared your trust." There wasn't anything else to say, so she started walking again. She'd fight for the Republic, but she wouldn't shut her eyes to the fact that it was just as corrupt as the Empire. The Empire just didn't try to hide it.

This particular briefing was going better than the others. Dorne had everything set up and ready with General Garza when they returned. Now, it was simply a discussion of whether or not to invite the woman to the squad. Fynta was all for it. "Someone with Sergeant Dorne's skills would make a great addition to my squad." Jorgan nodded from the shadows.

Garza smiled. "I agree. Sergeant Dorne is Havoc Squad material, without question." The general pressed her thumb to the screen on her datapad. "It's settled, then. Lieutenant, you're halfway to a full squad. I'll contact Colonel Gaff to notify him about the transfer. You should go and inform Sergeant Dorne yourself. Contact me from your ship when you've finished. Garza out." Obviously Garza expected Dorne to join Havoc Squad the entire time.

"Let's go get our new recruit, then maybe a drink," Fynta said, heading towards the door.

Jorgan fell in step, "Thought you'd never ask."

The only cantina in the place was attached to the spaceport. It was loud, dark, and packed with people trying to forget the dismal life that awaited them outside. "I won't be sad to put this planet behind me," Fynta said, swirling her blood red drink around in its cup. She didn't consider herself a drinker per say, but she enjoyed the look and smell of certain alcohols, and she had a high tolerance for the stuff. Apparently, Jorgan did too. He was on his third of whatever he was drinking, it smelled awful.

"Same. This world certainly brought out the worst in us," Jorgan replied, tipping the last of his drink down his throat.

"You handled yourself well, I'd say." Fynta met his eyes briefly. "I owe you an apology for my foul mood."

Jorgan blinked at her. "None necessary, sir. We all have our moments." Fynta reached across and patted his arm. The Cathar went rigid for just a moment, barely noticeable. Physical contact seemed to do that to him. _Poor shabuir_.

Fynta's comm beeped, text only from Dorne. "Wow that was fast. Looks like it's time to go." She stood to pay her tab, but Jorgan beat her to it, tossing the bar keeper a few extra credits just because he was in a good mood, or maybe it was the alcohol. Fynta made a mental note to figure out what he'd been drinking and make sure the ship stayed stocked.

Dorne was waiting at the bottom of the loading ramp, her affects stacked perfectly at her feet and posture impeccable. When they approached, the woman handed Fynta a datapad. "All in order, sir."

Fynta smiled as she took the device containing the transfer information. "I have no doubt." Pressing the button to lower the ramp, Fynta gestured up it, "Sergeant Elara Dorne, welcome to the Thunderclap. Your new home."

Dorne walked up the ramp with subdued pride and disappeared inside. Jorgan started up next, calling back over his shoulder, "Sir, when we get into the air, I'd like a word." Fynta nodded and he too disappeared into the ship.

"It can't be too soon," Fynta muttered and headed straight to the pilot's seat. Once all the proper channels had been notified and permission granted, she put the Thunderclap as far away from that planet as she could without entering hyperspace. She wanted to clean up before talking to anyone else. Fynta knew she would find Jorgan in the armory when she was ready. Which reminded her that she needed to get in touch with Kal and order Elara some armor. Fynta had a good feeling about their new medic.

**The Thunderclap**

Jorgan peered into the medbay where their newest recruit was familiarizing herself with the latest manuals and decided to leave Dorne alone. He was surprised Fynta hadn't found him yet, she didn't normally keep him waiting. He was passing the refreshers when something shattered against the interior wall. It took a couple of minutes for Jorgan to decide if he should investigate, then he pushed open the door carefully.

"Shab!" A small piece of metal skittered across the floor and stopped at Jorgan's feet. He bent down to find it was a suture needle. The lieutenant was staring at her reflection in the mirror, a towel wrapped around her body, hands pressing down on the sides of the sink, and blood pouring from the wound on her head.

"What did you do?" Jorgan asked, moving towards her without thinking.

Fynta's reflection glared back at him. "I was trying to clean the blood out of my hair and I must have reopened it. Blasted thing won't heal!" Her shoulders rose and fell in a trembling breath, attempting to calm her temper, something Jorgan had seen her do on more than one occasion.

Jorgan laid the needle on the shelf below the mirror and gently tilted Fynta's head forward so he could look at it. "Why not just ask Dorne?"

Fynta snorted, "Yeah. _Welcome aboard sergeant! Now do me a favor and sew me back up._ "

It was a valid point. "Well, you could have at least asked me for help."

"In case you hadn't noticed, I was in the middle of a shower." The steam was just starting to dissipate and Jorgan could feel droplets clinging to his body. Fynta looked up and smiled, "I still have a few hidden scars myself, soldier." Jorgan felt his throat tighten.

"Just let me patch you up." It was more of a growl than the request he'd intended.

"Alright." Fynta stepped back with a sigh. "I've got another kit in my room." She turned and stalked out. Jorgan let out a shaky breath and followed, averting his eyes in an effort not to watch her hips swing. Maybe he should get Dorne involved after all.

When Jorgan reached Fynta's room she had the medical kit laid out on the desk and was seated in a chair, still wrapped in already blood speckled towel. He picked up the antiseptic and began carefully separating the tangled hair from the wound. "Oh, you wanted to speak with me?" Fynta asked, leaning forward slightly at his behest, propping her elbows on her knees.

"Right." Jorgan had almost forgotten. "Inventory report, sir. Food and medical supplies all look good, but our munitions are getting low." He was doing his best to be gentle, but Fynta hissed when he pulled a strand of hair too hard. Jorgan winced and continued on with his report. "Thought we'd have enough to last us the year. Already requisitioned Command for more while we were on Taris, I didn't think you'd mind." Finally, Jorgan had the wound cleared and started adding the bactacream to sterilize it, which elicited a few more choice words from the lieutenant. He waited until Fynta gave a shuddering sigh and relaxed before speaking again. "Guess I shouldn't be too surprised. See more action in one day with Havoc than you see in a month with the Deadeyes."

"What kind of work did you do for the Deadeyes?" Fynta ask through clenched teeth. She was groping for anything else to focus on. Head wounds might not be as serious as they looked half the time, but they hurt like hell.

"You want a numbing agent?"

Fynta snorted, "Last time I requested pain meds the shabbing droid knocked me unconscious. I think I'll pass this time." Jorgan smiled to himself. That was probably an interesting story. "So, the Deadeyes, you still owe me that one."

Jorgan reached over and picked up the needle and thread, maybe he could distract Fynta long enough to get the wound closed, no harm in sharing a little history. "We mainly ran decapitation strikes, neutralized enemy commanders before a Republic offensive. Left the opposition leaderless, disorganized. Sometimes we'd camp outside the enemy's base for weeks, waiting for a clear shot. Eventually we'd hit our target, pull out and let the ground pounders mop up."

"Must've chalked up quite a kill count."

"Over two dozen confirmed. Eventually, I was offered a promotion and a post on Ord Mantel. The rest is history." Jorgan was half way done. "Smart move, career-wise. More men, more responsibility. But I wasn't interested in fighting separatists."

"What were you interested in?" Fynta's voice sounded more level now, though Jorgan could hear her taking deep breaths through her nose.

"I signed on to fight Imperials. Anything else I did was career dressing. After my transfer, command of the Deadeyes fell to my XO, Torve. Smart kid, a little green, but the potential was there."

"You thought I was green too," Fynta teased, then added, "But if he learned from you, I'm sure he's a fine officer." She reached out and patted Jorgan's hip in a gesture of friendship. He'd changed into his fatigues, so while Jorgan knew that was all Fynta could reach from her position, it still felt peculiar. The lieutenant was never bothered by physical contact, in fact, that seemed to be an integral part of how she communicated. It was unfamiliar territory for Jorgan, who kept himself a professional distance from everyone.

Jorgan chose to focus on the task at hand. "Only so much a person can be taught about leadership. You've either got what it takes, or you don't," he commented, pulling the last thread tight. Fynta gasped and grabbed his pant leg. "Almost done."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Dorne was standing in the door, her slightly furrowed brow being the only indication of her confusion. "I was looking for the lieutenant."

Fynta had seated herself in the chair at the desk, which left Jorgan's back towards the door, blocking the lieutenant from view. She put her hand back on his hip and nudged him to the side, then gave the other woman a casual wave.

"The lieutenant managed to reopen her wound," Jorgan replied, feeling the need to explain why he was standing in their commanding officer's room while she wore nothing but a towel.

Dorne's expression was unreadable as she took in lieutenant's disheveled state. "Do you need any help?"

"I didn't want to bother you while you were acclimating to your new home." Fynta sat up and inspected the repair job in the mirror. "Not bad, Jorgan."

Dorne gave them both a curt nod. "Well, my services are at your disposal whenever you need them. Both of you. I just wanted to inform you that my equipment and personal effects have been stowed in full accordance with transport code section two."

"Excellent work, Dorne," Fynta chimed seriously.

Dorne nodded again and took step back to retreat back to the medbay. Fynta was grinning up at him when Jorgan turned back towards her. It was one of those playful grins that made him nervous, even though he couldn't pinpoint why. Blast, he'd never had a woman tie him in knots the way she managed to.

"Come to think of it," Jorgan said, changing the subject again. "I haven't been in contact with the Deadeyes for a while. I should find out where they're stationed, maybe catch up."

"Sounds like a good idea." Fynta was still smiling. "I would love to meet them, maybe hear some stories about the young Aric Jorgan." She spun back around to look in the medical mirror, grimacing as she poked at the tidy line of sutures. "It'll be strange, won't it?"

"What will?"

"Well—" Fynta looked over at him, but she wasn't smiling anymore. "—it's been just the two of us for weeks. It'll be strange having someone else on board; around all the time." Jorgan nodded. Actually, he hadn't thought about it too much, but she was right. "Things will have to change."

"What things?" Jorgan folded his arms and leaned against the wall, wondering how long it would take her to break open that wound again.

That was when she grinned at him, startling Jorgan from his relaxed position. "I'll have to flirt less."

It was the first time Fynta had admitted out loud that she'd known what she was doing all along. Jorgan decided to play along, just for the hell of it, because she wouldn't expect it. "Don't strain yourself on my account." He was rewarded by her startled expression, which broke into a playful smile. "I'll miss having my own room," he added.

"You'll still have it," Fynta answered, spinning her chair around to face him. "Oh, sorry, did I forget to tell you?"

"What?" Jorgan pressed.

Fynta looked like she was having trouble fighting off another smile. "Dorne is setting up her quarters in the medbay. I've been assured it can be converted into a fully functional hospital again in a matter of seconds. She put in the request just after we made the jump to hyperspace."

Jorgan wasn't disappointed, albeit surprised that it was Dorne's idea since it wasn't exactly in accordance with regulation. Perhaps she wasn't such an open book after all. Jorgan shook himself. Just what he needed, another unpredictable woman in his life.

"Next recruit needs to be a male," Jorgan grumbled.

Fynta rolled her head back in laughter, "No promises."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> Mando'ade [Mando-AH-day] Mandalorians (pl) - sons and/ or daughters of Mandalore
> 
> The verd'goten was the name of the traditional rite of passage in Mandalorian culture in which a Mandalorian youth was accepted as an adult.
> 
> shab - excrement (used as a curse)


	7. Nar Shaddaa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nar Shaddaa is easily my favorite planet in the entire game and I will never, not love Jonas Balkar.

 

**The Thunderclap  
20 days after Ord Mantell**

"Dorne! We've got a call coming in," the lieutenant called from the central room. Elara had just finished reorganizing her new quarters, whoever had stocked this medbay had done a woefully inefficient job of it. It had taken nearly the entire trip to put it right. At one point, both the lieutenant and the sergeant had stopped by to watch in silence, neither speaking nor appearing to expect her to do so, then grew bored and wandered off again. The converted medbay would easily serve as both quarters and medical facility, should they be needed. Everything was neat and had a place now, nothing cluttered. Elara was quite pleased. She had no qualms with sharing common quarters with a male. However, Sergeant Jorgan had seemed less enthusiastic, so it would be remiss of her to not explore other options for dwellings. As it happens, the lieutenant had an open mind, even offering to share her own room before they'd come to this solution.

Elara hurried into the room just as the transmission began. "Lieutenant. This is General Garza. I see you've touched down on Nar Shaddaa." The lieutenant's mouth tightened into a thin line. "Before we begin your briefing, I want to make something clear: The situation on Nar Shaddaa is extremely delicate. This moon belongs to the Hutt Cartel, who take their neutrality seriously. The Republic cannot afford any incidents."

"I won't cause any trouble," Lieutenant Wolfe grinned in a way that reminded Elara of a child crossing her fingers behind her back while making a promise.

The general, a plump woman with stern features, put her hands on her wide hips. "Cause any trouble the mission requires. Just don't get caught. Now, your mission: An experimental Republic war droid has gone rogue, committing a series of seemingly random attacks across Nar Shaddaa. The droid's designation is M1-4X, and it is my belief that this droid is acting under orders from Harron Tavus." The woman on the holo produced a datapad and began pulling up information.

Wolfe grabbed her own to receive the inbound data. "Do we know anything about the war droid's capabilities?" Elara listened dutifully, committing every detail to memory while General Garza and Lieutenant Wolfe traded intel.

The general pursed her lips together and stared through the holo with cold, clear eyes. "This war droid's rampage must be stopped before it's connected with the Republic. An agent of the Strategic Information Service will be assisting you. Officially, you're providing military support to an SIS operation. Do not divulge Tavus's defection, or the droid's connection to it. Understood?"

"You can count on us, sir," Fynta assured the grey haired woman.

General Garza frowned at them. "Be careful, Lieutenant. If this war droid is even half as dangerous as its original designers had estimated, you'll have your work cut out for you. Garza out."

The transmission ended and the lieutenant clapped her hands while turning to face her small crew. "Well, this should be fun."

"I'll get the gear together." Sergeant Jorgan tossed Wolfe her helmet and strode off towards the armory. They both seemed perfectly comfortable with going up against a vastly superior weapon. Turning on her heel, Elara decided to add a couple more supplies to her medical kit.

**Nar Shaddaa Spaceport**

The Nar Shaddaa Spaceport was more chaotic than any other spaceport in the galaxy. Fynta loved it here. Her parents had spent a lot of time on this moon when she was a child. A lot of her work with Epoch took place here too. Neutral ground was a good venue for a woman in her line of work, her old work, at least. Surely she could bring some of that to Havoc Squad, though Fynta wasn't sure Jorgan and Dorne were cut out for it. Those two were mirror images of one another, everything was black or white, whereas Fynta was more of a shades of grey kind of woman.

The Neon lights advertised everything one could possibly imagine from casinos and pleasure barges, to new speeder dealers. The signs were everywhere. The variety of aliens that crowded around rivaled even that of Coruscant. Her Cathar squad mate seemed completely lost. "Ever been here before?" Fynta asked, doing her best to keep the grin from her face.

The big Cathar did his best to dodge pedestrians who didn't seem to care to dodge him. Jorgan's eyes darted to every corner, the sniper in him taking in angles and details that Fynta could only guess at. "Can't say that I have." He sounded a lot calmer than he looked.

Fynta grabbed Jorgan's chest plate and dragged him along behind her, shouldering people out of the way as she went, just like everyone else. She'd instructed Dorne to stay on the ship and monitor transmissions until they were able to get her proper armor. That, and someone needed to stay back and make sure no one stole the shabbing thing. They were swept up in the crush of bodies boarding the elevator that led to the surface, where she knew there would be at least three taxi companies competing for business just outside. Fynta chartered a taxi while Jorgan gazed disapprovingly on the only planet she had ever thought of as home.

"What, no fancy speeder this time?" Jorgan remarked while folding his legs into the cramped back seat.

Fynta snorted. "Not even I am going to drive in this chaos. No rules of the road here." Leaning forward, she tapped the glass to get the droid's attention. "Lower Promenade. No conversation."

"You seem to know your way around." Jorgan was looking out the window, his expression mingled amazement and revulsion.

"I spent a portion of my childhood here and a lot of my early career." Fynta smiled at the buildings covered in flashing neon lights that stood in stark contrast to the perpetually dark sky above. "It feels like home."

"Well, that explains a few things." Jorgan nudged her playfully with his knee. Fynta took that as a good sign that Taris hadn't botched their . . . whatever they had. She wasn't sure if Jorgan was a friend, but he was a squad mate who sometimes acted like a friend. She'd take that for now. Then there was Dorne. The woman seemed desperately torn between wanting to be an integrated part of the squad and being isolated by rules ingrained in her from an early age. She'd made a valiant attempt at relaxation, as Fynta suggested, but it almost looked painful. Dorne was much more at peace when she had something to study.

The taxi touched down and Fynta paid the droid in unmarked credits, a habit she didn't plan on giving up, and made her way through the crowd to find the cantina where they were supposed to meet the SIS contact. Fynta just hoped it wasn't someone she knew. They were passing the massive, golden Hutt statue centerpiece when Jorgan started grumbling about what it could buy if it were melted down. Somehow, Fynta knew he wasn't considering it for himself.

To add a little bit of class, there were colorful, holographic trees placed strategically throughout the promenade. Right next to the twirling girls wearing nearly nothing. Fynta stopped to consider them, while Jorgan looked in every direction _but_ at them. "It's such a bleak existence," she sighed. Fynta had seen too many of them during her career and had learned years ago that there wasn't a shabbing thing she could do about it.

Finding the Lowbrow Lounge was simple enough, the SIS agent a tad more difficult. They blended in well, but eventually she saw a man who fit the description. He sat at a table in the corner, back against the wall. An attractive human with grey eyes, black hair, and that casual attitude that oozed SIS. He wore simple civilian clothes and a hip holster, though Fynta was willing to bet her salary that there were more weapons hidden on him.

As the two of them approached the table, the man flashed a charming smile. "Ah, there you are. They didn't tell me to expect a gorgeous woman. You're easier on the eyes than my usual clients." Fynta smiled, this one was going to be fun to work with.

**Lower Promenade**

"I don't like him," Jorgan grumbled as they made their way towards the vault SIS Agent Jonas Balkar had flagged as their objective. Aric didn't trust anyone who was that casual about a mission of this caliber. Not to mention, he didn't like the way the SIS agent eyed the lieutenant. Jorgan liked it even less that Fynta wasn't offended. SIS couldn't be trusted, regardless of whose side they claimed to be on.

Fynta laughed, "I do. He's charming." She was smiling to herself again, this stinking dump of a moon brought out the lieutenant's cheerful side.

"I don't trust charming," he growled. Jorgan disliked Balker immediately, he couldn't put it down to one thing. The guy just rubbed him the wrong way.

Fynta sighed, "Balker knows something is up. We need to be on our toes." Jorgan nodded, he had picked up on the agent's fishing questions as well. At least his _charm_ hadn't distracted her from the main objective.

They lapsed into silence while Jorgan took in their surroundings. The entire moon was like one massive, low budget casino. "More markets," he snorted. "Everyone on this planet is looking to make some credits." The sheer mass of commerce that took place was staggering. Businesses built on top of businesses.

"Yeah, Nar Shaddaa is unique in the galaxy. Here we are." She turned towards an archway that led back into a chained off area. Two men stood guard to each side, arms crossed and blasters on each hip. Fynta nodded to them and walked straight through. The men nodded back and continued scanning the area around them. "The trick here," she whispered. "Is to look like you belong or that you'll kill them if they challenge you."

Jorgan noticed Fynta left her helmet off, meaning she wanted to make eye contact. He also noticed no one else wore their helmets. Apparently, protecting one's brain was considered the act of cowardice here. He was the hired help, and recognizable, so Jorgan's helmet stayed firmly in place. "This place is insane." Aric heard Fynta snicker, she didn't disagree, but she seemed to enjoy it.

**Axxon Storage Reclamation**

"Engage and terminate!" The bald soldier ordered. Jorgan recognized those tattoos, the man was a Republic commando. Rifling through goods in the vault to sell on the black market to fund Tavus's little defection. Fynta gave Jorgan the _hold_ signal. She was exposed, without her helmet, and Jorgan didn't like it one bit.

The droid was like none Jorgan had ever seen. It stood taller than the man it guarded, had a round, compact body, a flat, domed head, and stood on tripod legs. It, he, had a personality as well. M1-4X hesitated. "Negative. Subject identity confirmed-officer, Republic Army. A valued ally in our battle against tyranny!" So that was her move, Fynta wanted the droid to run a facial scan. It was risky.

The man rolled his eyes, "Great. Look, this is a top secret mission. Commander Tavus sent us himself. Does _Havoc Squad Commander Tavus_ mean anything to you?"

Fynta nodded. "It means murderer and traitor," she replied, tapping the emblem on her left shoulder. "I'm the commander of Havoc Squad now. Tavus is a traitor to the Republic. Oh, and he tried to kill me and my crew—" she help up two fingers on her left hand, "—twice. I'm the sensitive type."

It was at that moment the man caught on, his face turning bright red with anger. "Tavus isn't the traitor, he was betrayed! And there are some of us who aren't standing for it! Forex, secure the package and follow me. The rest of you, gun this scum down and rendezvous with us at Objective Seven."

Forex's body shook violently. "Negative! What you suggest is an act of betrayal, the murder of a fellow—"

The man's scowl deepened as he began to shout orders. "M1-4X, Override Code Five-Five-Eight! Secure the objective and follow me, now!"

The shaking stop and the droid went rigid. "Sir, yes, sir," it replied in a monotone droid voice that held none of its earlier inflection. Jorgan actually felt sorry for it.

Fynta took a few steps backwards, sensing she was losing the upper hand. "I am your commanding officer," she shot back at the droid, still backing up. "Ignore this man's orders."

The domed head swiveled from side to side. "Negative. Override code condition five-five-eight. Obey only orders given by Commander Harron Tavus or personnel designated by same."

The man made an off-color hand gesture and ran for the opposite door. "Let's go! Move, now!" M1-4X turned stiffly and scuttled after him. Once he passed through, Jorgan heard the man yell, "Open fire!"

Fynta dove for cover as Jorgan emerged to spray the room with blaster. He kicked her helmet towards her, but didn't see if she put it on. Two men fell, not expecting an attack from that corner of the room. Then Jorgan switched his weapon back to single fire and searched for more targets. Another man slumped to the ground, a black smoking hole in his helmet and Fynta was standing behind him. "Where did the other one go?" She asked. The fourth man had disappeared, then something moved behind Fynta, a flash of blue.

"Get down!" Jorgan shouted. Fynta flattened herself against the floor just as Jorgan fired two bolts into the man's chest, then something exploded, sending rubble everywhere, and unbalancing him. Regaining his footing, Jorgan rushed over to Fynta, who was still laying on the floor with her hands covering her head. Thankfully it was shielded by a helmet this time. "Are you alright?" He asked, squatting beside her.

Fynta lifted her head and nodded, "Yeah, thanks for that." Then took Jorgan's outstretched hand and climbed to her feet. Together, they surveyed the carnage. "I'm guessing dead man's switch?"

"Probably. I didn't shoot anything that would explode that time," Jorgan answered. A sentence he'd never imagined would leave his mouth.

"Well. That was interesting, wasn't it?" Agent Balkar said over their squad frequency. He didn't sound happy.

Fynta ignored the question. "Any idea where the droid went?"

"We've got a pretty solid lead. Our tap on the vault cams wasn't perfect, but the droid's crew looked like they were packing Republic heat, all standard issue." He paused for a moment as if considering a point. "We didn't have audio, though. Any luck finding out who we're dealing with?" The jammer Fynta had set up was clearly working. At least the conversation between her and the droid hadn't been overheard, but she would need to explain her reaction and what they talked about eventually. Jorgan doubted Balker was the kind to take people at their word.

Fynta didn't flinch. "Enemies of the Republic. That's all we need to know."

"I can see why you chose this line of work," the man said in a sour tone, it might have been meant as an insult, but Fynta didn't rise to the bait. She seldom did. "Our people tracked the droid and his buddy. They just headed into an abandoned arms factory in the Red Light Sector. I have a team setting up shop in a warehouse not far from the factory. Meet up with us there."

Fynta nodded, "We'll move out ASAP."

"Keep your eyes open, the Red Light Sector isn't exactly the classiest place in the galaxy. See you soon."

Fynta chuckled, "Yeah, thanks."

"You actually like that guy, don't you?" Jorgan asked.

"What's not to like?" Fynta answered. "Dorne, did you get all of that?"

" _Affirmative, sir_."

"I need you to monitor all transmissions from the Red Light Sector. If baldy contacts Tavus, I want to know about it before the SIS. Might help to know who he is, too."

" _Already on it, sir._ "

Fynta removed her helmet and grinned at Jorgan, "I like Dorne, too."


	8. Avoiding Allies

  **Red Light Sector  
Temporary SIS Headquarters**

The Red Light Sector was a place Fynta hadn't visited in years, but she remembered it well enough. Hard to forget a place like this, not to mention, her first mission with Epoch had been here. They were staking out a lead on a possible target that had come to absolutely zilch. It had been a huge let down to call Fynta's first mission a failure, but the SIS agent in charge had assured her that it happened a lot in that line of work. Fynta smiled to herself as they walked, she'd found her target three months later on a follow up op.

"You seem to know your way around," Jorgan commented, not for the first time Fynta noted, as he followed her through the twists and turns of back alleys and crowded streets. He was always fishing for more information about all the things that were missing from her file. Fynta knew Jorgan wouldn't like what he heard when she finally came clean, which she would. One day. For now, she'd have a little fun with it.

"I pulled the short straw on one of our missions." Coming to a stop, Fynta chose a pleasure house at random. "I worked in that one."

"What could you possibly be doing in a place like that?" Jorgan sounded as if he were choking on his words.

Fynta simply grinned at him. It wasn't nearly as exciting as he was imagining. That month spent in the Red Light Sector was actually as a cantina dancer. Her sole objective had been to mark the target for the sniper waiting outside. After a three weeks she finally managed to grab the guy's attention and lure him into the back alley with a promise of a good time. The sniper on the adjacent roof had spoiled it for him. After that, Fynta moved off planet for the next mission. She'd learned a lot of life lessons from the other patrons and dancers, though. All in all, it wasn't a horrible op. She didn't even have to dance, mostly she strutted around in sequins and served drinks. "I've still got the outfit somewhere," Fynta mused. Jorgan missed a step. It was enough of a reaction for to appease her for now.

Then a pink Twi'lek wearing nothing but scraps of imitation silk threw her arms over Jorgan's shoulders. It put a damper on Fynta's playful mood as she gave the girl a shove and pulled Jorgan further down the road. He didn't object. She was positive that the grumpy sergeant didn't know how to handle the working girls in this area, and as much as Fynta hated to do it, a good boot was the only thing that would convince the girls that Jorgan wasn't buying. Poor things knew little Basic and only understood violence. Fynta knew that girl wouldn't be the only one to try for the Cathar either. Jorgan cut an impressive figure in his armor, he wasn't exactly hard on the eyes out of it either.

"Ah, there it is," Fynta pointed at a building across the street with a band playing on the sidewalk out front. There were drunkards dancing around and another man was vomiting in the alley.

"Charming," Jorgan muttered as he followed Fynta through the door.

The walls inside were covered in all manner of textile and color. It was awful. Averting her eyes, Fynta turned right and pushed through the beaded curtains that covered the door to the back room where Balkar was standing over a row of techs at computer terminals. A row of screens in front of them showed every conceivable angle on the streets outside. Jonas turned and spread his arms out wide, "Hey there. Welcome to Balkar's Interior Refurbishments, Incorporated. Be sure you review the new employee manual."

Fynta gave the place an approving nod, "Giving up the spy business?"

"Thought I'd like a less conspicuous career than _Republic Intelligence Team Leader._ Although I will miss the benefits." Balkar sighed dramatically. Jorgan snorted in contempt as he removed his helmet. Suddenly the SIS agent was all business. "I've got bad news. The droid and his friend gave us the slip just after you and I spoke. They jumped into an access tunnel and blew it behind themselves. Tracking them down again is going to take time."

Fynta rubbed her chin, this wasn't what she was hoping to hear. "Do we have some kind of backup plan?"

"Working on it," Balkar answered, pushing his hair out of his face and looking like he could use a cup of 'caf. "In the meantime, make yourselves comfortable. This might take longer than we'd hoped."

"Doesn't it always?"

Balkar nodded. "About that. You're not new to this cloak and dagger stuff." He waved a datapad at her. "I'm assuming all these blank areas in your record have _top-secret SIS business_ stamped on them." Fynta crossed her arms and stared at the man, Balkar really was clever. He smiled that charming smile again. "A buddy of mine, Big Blue, claimed you were one of his best, and that I should be nice to you."

That softened Fynta up a little. Big Blue, also known as senior SIS agent Sen Dewu, was a larger than life, blue skinned Chiss. He was so deep into the SIS and Imperial double agent bid that even Fynta wasn't sure whose side he was really on. Dewu also happened to be Fynta's mentor and former boss. She'd always trusted him, no matter whose side he was on. "Blue's a smart man. How is he?"

Balkar laughed, "Still got the moves." His smile slipped for a moment as he leaned in a little closer and dropped his voice. "See, Big B and I go back a long way, and while most of what he does is above my pay grade, I have an idea of what kind of stuff his team gets into. So, you want to tell me what's really going on here?"

So Balkar knew Fynta's specialty was neutralizing potential threats and he knew the man in the vault was a Republic soldier. No doubt the man had already put it together. Jorgan appeared at Fynta's side again, all angry, puffed up Cathar warrior looming over the puny human male. She positioned herself just a little more between the two men and shot a warning glance at Jorgan before turning back to Balkar. "We are tracking down a rogue war droid before it kills innocent civilians. That's my mission." It wasn't a lie, it just wasn't the whole truth.

Balkar glanced at Jorgan, who hadn't retreated a centimeter, and seemed to take the hint. "All right. Just making sure we're all on the same page." One of the techs signaled him from the far wall. "You two hang out, I'll let you know when we've got something." They watched the SIS agent amble back over to the wall of terminals and Fynta steered Jorgan towards the other side of the room.

"Big Blue?" Jorgan asked, leaning a hip against a packing crate and folding his arms over his chest. The Cathar was still staring a hole in the back of Balkar's head. It didn't look like he was thinking happy thoughts.

"Stage name," Fynta replied. She knew where to find him and the urge to see her old mentor was almost overwhelming. "He's quite an accomplished stripper."

Jorgan shook his head slowly, "And what kind of stuff does his team get into?" Her companion wasn't the covert type, if he had a question, he asked. And it was tearing him up that he couldn't figure out what Epoch did. Fynta wasn't sure why it was so important, other than to satisfy his need to understand his commanding officer. She was going to make him sweat it.

"I can honestly say I have no experience as a stripper."

"How exactly does that get him close to targets?" Jorgan was watching the room, making eye contact with everyone but Fynta as they spoke in lowered voices.

Fynta flashed him her most angelic smile. "We were an equal opportunity outfit. Women can be just as dangerous as men." Jorgan finally glanced down at her. "Just as carnal too." That got a reaction out of the Cathar. She'd made of game of seeing how many shocked expressions Aric Jorgan could make. Seemed sex was the topic that got him the most. _Poor gedin'la_ , she thought again.

It took another twelve hours for the SIS team to get their act together. Fynta tried not to be too hard on them, Nar Shaddaa was the perfect place to come if you needed to get lost and she was withholding valuable information. On a moon so completely over populated, no one saw anything that they weren't being paid to see. So, Fynta sat on a crate going through her messages to pass the time. She'd sent one to Verin making sure he wasn't here but hadn't received a response. Meanwhile, Jorgan sat next to her with his back against the wall and his hands clasped over his chest, dozing. Dorne checked in every now and then to relay information on the Republic soldier. He was a captain from a commando unit known for its high collateral damage. That eased any guilt Fynta might have felt about putting a bolt through a fellow soldier.

Balkar strutted over sporting a wide grin and clapped his hands, causing Jorgan to sit bolt upright. "Okay, we've got a plan," he said, ignoring the glare from the Cathar. "Whoever these guys are, they aren't working alone. Somebody on Nar Shaddaa is helping them, and it's time we found out who. I'll bet these guys would call for help if you shot up their arms factory. Then, we trace that call straight to whoever's in charge."

Fynta loved blowing stuff up. "That's a good plan, let's make it happen." She hopped off the crate and hooked her datapad back onto her belt.

"First thing's first: You'll need to plant these signal trackers around the arms factory so that we can trace the distress call." Balkar handed her a handful of trackers, which Fynta divided in half and passed to Jorgan. "Then, you kick down the door and do what you do best, while we see who gets a call. Sound like a plan?"

Still grinning, Fynta turned to Jorgan. "Time to wreak a little havoc."

"You worry me sometimes," Jorgan replied as he headed for the door. Fynta was pretty sure he meant it, too.

**Leaving the Red Light Sector**

Completing a mission where she got to blow up buildings should feel better than this. Fynta replayed the whole shabla mess. _That distress signal led to a surprising place: a penthouse at the Club Vertica Casino. My sources say there's a big, Imperial party going on up there. Our rouge droid's Republic, but the Imps are giving it orders._ Balkar's words rang in Fynta's ears as she and Jorgan piled into the cab. He had to know by now, yet the man still expecting her to come clean. Fynta ran a hand down her face. Jonas's thinly veiled accusation hadn't even been the worst part of the meeting.

Havoc had twenty-four hours to kill while Balkar's team got their names on the safe list for the casino penthouse. After telling the droid driver where to take them, Fynta shut the privacy window that cut off all visual and audio to the back seat. All taxis on Nar Shaddaa came standard with them, allowing people to conduct their business in private. Then she cut the feed to their armor cams.

"What the shab was that all about?" Fynta asked, keeping her eyes straight and her tone neutral. The conversation replayed again and again in her head. She'd been so hopped up on adrenaline that Balkar's flirty comments had triggered her own. That high had bottomed out real fast when Jorgan got in Balkar's face. _Get your priorities straight, Balkar, or I'll straighten them out for you._ The way Jorgan had gone after the SIS agent was completely uncalled for, even by Fynta's standards. Surely Aric didn't take anything that man said seriously, or anything she said for that matter. They had been working together for nearly a month, Fynta would be sorely disappointed if he didn't know her better by now.

Jorgan didn't answer immediately, and when he did, it was an unsatisfactory answer. "I don't know."

"Well, it was definitely one for the books, whatever it was." Fynta sighed, leaning into her seat to rest the back of her head against the glass.

"Sorry, sir." Fynta could tell the Cathar was still angry, there was no way that apology was genuine. _What could Agent Balkar possibly have done to incur Jorgan's wrath_. She knew he didn't like SIS, but the open hostility was getting old.

Fynta waved the apology off with the same air with which Jorgan had given it. "It's over. Let's just try to play nice from now on. We don't need to get any further up on Balkar's watch list and your behavior is sure to push us to the top."

"Permission to speak freely?" Fynta gave a humorless laugh, so he continued, this time looking over at her. "Yours isn't?"

Fynta met Jorgan's gaze, studying him for a moment with a raised eyebrow. "You're mad because I flirted a little?"

Jorgan resumed studying the seat in front of him. "I don't know." That must be frustrating for a guy who was used to holding all the cards and having all the answers. To suddenly find himself in such a messy world.

"Shab, Aric. He's SIS, that's how you talk to people like Balkar. He's seen my file, I'm guessing a lot more of it than he let on. So if I don't play the part, it immediately sends up a red flag. Besides, it's no different from when I flirt with you, only he responds in kind." Except Fynta realized that wasn't completely true. She genuinely liked the old grouch. If Jorgan ever made a move, she'd probably accept. Jonas Balkar was just eye candy.

Jorgan looked startled, mouth slightly open, but before he could reply the privacy window opened and the metallic voice informed them that they had arrived. The moment had passed, so Fynta gave the Cathar a pat on the leg for good measure and climbed out of the air car. Fynta found it impossible to stay annoyed with him.

Reactivating their comms, Fynta checked in with her newest soldier. "Dorne, what's your ETA?"

The woman's clipped tones emanated from the communicator on Fynta's wrist. "I'll arrive at your coordinates in less than one minute."

"Alright, we're waiting outside."

Jorgan looked up at the sign. "Club Vertica?"

Fynta shrugged, "I could use a drink." Not to mention a little recon of their objective was in order. She leaned against the wall by the entrance and waited for Jorgan to join her, because she knew he would. "I'll dial it back a little," Fynta promised when he leaned next to her. "If it really bothers you." Squad morale was more important that satisfying her playful desires.

**The Red Light Sector**   
**Balkar's Interior Refurbishments, Incorporated**   
**27 Hours Later**

Fynta hauled the Imperial through the streets of Nar Shaddaa. All three Havoc members had their helmets in place to conceal their identities and the lieutenant had made sure they all applied their badge patches. Still, Jorgan was amazed that no one in the busy streets moved to block their path. Their struggling prisoner received cursory glances at best. She pushed through the beaded curtains and dropped the man on the floor at Balkar's feet. "Major Zandres, pay on delivery," Fynta said, pulling her helmet off with a wink.

Jonas Balkar was standing with his hands on his hips and grinning at the hooded figure. "Now that's impressive timing." The man looked back up at Fynta. "Let me buy you a drink for your trouble."

"I might just take you up on that—after you pay me." Fynta was playing the part of the mercenary, a part she claimed to know well. After what Jorgan had just witnessed, he didn't doubt it.

Major Zandres was on his knees, the bag they'd shoved over his head turning from side to side, attempting to follow the conversation. Balkar stepped closer to Fynta and lowered his voice, "I liked the dress." He winked, then hauled the Imperial officer to his feet by the collar. "Come on, Major. Let's you and I have a chat."

Jorgan paced the room while Fynta and Dorne conversed quietly. He stopped every now and then to listen in out of curiosity. "What was your family like?" Fynta asked the medic before glancing up behind her and holding up a hand, offering Jorgan a protein ration.

Dorne smiled. "Proper, rigid, austere. Warm as well, in their own way. What about yours, Lieutenant?"

"The exact opposite," Fynta grinned. "We were loud and wild. Both my parents loved a good fight, but they always made sure Verin and I were cared for, and we weren't allowed to fight until after we'd come of age." Fynta ripped open her protein supplement and grimaced before squeezing it into her mouth, then grabbed Jorgan's leg plate and tugged. "Have a seat, Jorgan, you're making me antsy. Come tell us about young Aric." She patted the floor beside her with a playful smile.

Jorgan looked from one woman to the other. Fynta with her raised eyebrow; Elara with her wide, expectant eyes. With a sigh, he joined the women on the floor. Fynta grinned at him, "Okay, first thing's first, where did you grow up?"

"Rendili, with an elderly human couple," Jorgan answered as he tore open his own rations. Fynta wasn't wrong, the tan paste tasted as awful as it smelled.

"You were adopted, sir? Where from?" Dorne asked, tipping her head slightly to the side.

Jorgan opened his mouth to respond but snapped it shut again when Fynta nodded behind him. Balkar was approaching, wiping his hands on a rag. He didn't look pleased. "Droid's in Shadow Town." The man glared down at Fynta as she got to her feet. "In the company of one Captain Andrik of the Republic Special Forces."

Fynta furrowed her brows and nodded as if this was new information. "Do we have exact coordinates?"

Balkar stared at her for a long moment, putting his fists on his hips. "Yeah, coordinates should be coming in soon." The SIS agent may have suspected about the defections before, but now he knew for sure that Fynta had been lying to him. Jorgan found himself fighting back a smirk.

**Shadow Town  
Droid Charging Facility Access**

Andrik kept himself between Fynta and the console that controlled the generator charging M1-4X, jamming a finger in her direction as he spat. "You make me sick, you know that. You killed good men, fellow soldiers! All because some scumbag on Coruscant said they were traitors? Your loyalties are all wrong. When you're bleeding out in a trench on some muckball planet, it ain't High Command that pulls you out—it's the guy next to you."

"It wasn't High Command who ambushed me on Ord Mantell. It _was_ the guy next to me." Fynta threw his argument back at him. "I think I'll stick with the new ones, thanks." Just a few more steps and she could reach the panel. Honestly, she should've slotted the guy already, but Fynta had promised to at least make it look like she tried to bring him back alive.

The man glowered at Fynta, smashing the palm of his hand down on the release button. "Enough chatter. It's time to finish this." All the wiring sprang away from M1-4X at once, dropping him the few feet to the floor. From the solid thud and the subtle indent he left there, Fynta judged his weight to be substantial.

M1-4X took two steps forward. "Lieutenant, be advised that your weapon will require several decades of sustained fire in order to penetrate my shields at their current charge." He took another step. "Seeing as Republic SpecForce training is the best in the galaxy. I'm confident you'll find an alternative solution for my destruction. Good luck." It was going to be hard to destroy something so cheerful. _What a waste._

"Um. I appreciate the tip, Forex." Fynta looked over at Jorgan, who simply shrugged.

"It is my pleasure to at least serve the Republic in this small way," the droid added.

"Enough! Open fire!" Andrik ordered. A single shot to the head, one he clearly wasn't expecting, silenced Andrik for good. He must have thought they would be too busy dealing with the Forex to worry about him, so he never went for a weapon. Not that it would have helped. Jorgan really was one hell of a shot.

Then M1-4X brought his weapons to bear and opened fire. All three scurried to find shelter, having stood out in the open too long while take part in the odd conversation.

"Dorne, figure out how to bypass those shields, we'll draw his fire!" Working in unison, Fynta and Jorgan broke cover to return fire. As hoped, M1-4X turned his back towards Elara to pursue his new targets. The weapons the droid possessed left little doubt in Fynta's mind that she wouldn't hold out long, even in beskar. A single, teeth jarring hit to the shoulder made her cry out. Fynta was pretty sure her armor had held up, but she couldn't take another shot like that. Either her arm was missing, or had gone numb, she'd check on that later.

Jorgan must have been feeling the same, because he was yelling when his voice came over the comms. "Any day now, Dorne!"

"Almost—got it! Shields should be down!" Dorne reported, then joined the assault from the rear of the room.

An explosion rocked the area around Jorgan, but Fynta couldn't see anything past the smoke. Sparks had begun flying from the joints in Forex's armor. Fynta redoubled her assault, firing round after round into the droid, aiming for anything that looked vital. Fluids of varying colors poured onto the floor as she severed the lines, small flames sputtering around them. One round scored a lucky shot to the center of the chest piece; another to the back of the head-dome from Dorne's location. M1-4X shuddered, went rigid, and fell to his side in a shower of flashes and glowing fluids. The droid's eye lights went dark, then and it lay still.

Fynta waited two heart beats to see if it would move. When it didn't, she sprinted towards where she had last seen Jorgan, noting with growing concern that there had been no further fire from his location. Fynta was in a full run by the time she rounded the overturned terminal that he had been using for cover. It had been blown from its original location and now lay in pieces. She found Jorgan sitting against the wall working at his leg armor, cursing quietly, with his helmet on the floor at his side. Dropping next to him, Fynta removed her gloves to help. Jorgan seemed intent on removing the lower plate and that was enough for her. It was only after she began to release the fasteners that Fynta realized they were covered in blood.

Dorne arrived just as Fynta pulled the plate free. There was a piece of shrapnel imbedded in Jorgan's calf that had managed to get between the joints of his armor. It wasn't massive and she realized with immense relief that it wasn't near any major arteries. However, the Cathar's color looked off and he was covered in sweat.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant." Dorne politely shouldered past and began examining the wound. Fynta moved to the side, fully aware this was not her area of expertise. Jorgan had a better chance of a proper recovery in the hands of their new medic than in her own.

"Lieutenant?" Someone called from the entry.

"Go. I can handle this. Sergeant Jorgan will be fine," Dorne remarked as she began to excise the piece of the computer terminal. Jorgan growled, meeting Fynta's eyes for a second, before shutting them tight and grinding his teeth.

There wasn't anything Fynta could do here, so she picked her way back over the debris to where a tan Zabrak wearing the uniform of a SIS technician was waiting. "Ah! There you are. I'm with the SIS. What is your status? Do you require medical attention?" He asked, nodding at the blood on her hands.

Fynta looked back over her shoulder to where Dorne and Jorgan were hidden by the wreckage. Then began wiping her hands on the armored plates that covered her thighs, "I think we've got it under control. Thanks."

The Zabrak looked around at all the damage. "We're here to clean up the mess, make sure there's nothing useful to be recovered. Nice work, by the way." His eyes fell on the ruined heap that was once M1-4X and they grew to the size of saucers. The SIS tech shook his head, remembering the errand he'd been sent to do. "Oh, Jonas is waiting for you inside the Republic Embassy, up on the Promenade. He asked that you meet him there for a debriefing."

Fynta nodded, "I'll head for the embassy as soon as my team is ready."

The tech extended a hand towards Fynta, then thought better of it and settled for a polite nod. The Strategic Information Service didn't salute. "Glad I got a chance to meet you, Lieutenant. And again, nice work." Then he turned to his men and began to bark order. "Sweepers, fan out! Standard grid formation. . . ."

Fynta left the men to their work. When she rejoined her team, Jorgan was standing, his arm slung over Dorne's shoulder. "So he'll live?"

The Cathar grimaced at her, "You going to help or crack jokes?"

Dorne appeared immune to her attempts at humor as well, so Fynta took the other side, snatched up Jorgan's helmet, and allowed him to drape his free arm over her shoulders as well. Once on the elevator, they propped him against the wall. Fynta leaned next to him, allowing the Cathar to put some of his weight against her shoulder, while Dorne took up the adjacent side.

"I need a long, hot shower," Fynta said, head leaned back against the filthy wall.

Jorgan started to laugh, then winced. Dorne simply nodded.

**Nar Shaddaa**   
**Upper Promenade**   
**Republic Embassy**

The taxi ride to the Embassy had been a painful experience. Dorne assured Jorgan that his leg would mend fine and that he had nothing to worry about. That didn't keep it from throbbing with every wild twist that blasted Rodian driver had taken. Jorgan figured the guy fancied himself a pod racer instead of a taxi driver. The cramped quarters did little to help the situation, though Fynta, who sat on the side of the injured leg, did her absolute best not to jostle him. To add insult to injury, Dorne suggested they find him a hover chair upon landing. That had put an end to any complaining Jorgan might have done. Maybe that was her goal, who knew with these women.

Now Jorgan sat in the foyer with Dorne while Fynta, Balkar, and Garza had it out in the adjacent room. Jorgan could hear the SIS agent shouting and resisted the urge to storm in there and put Balkar in his place again. He'd developed a strange protectiveness of the lieutenant and avoided thinking too heavily on why.

"You lied to me. You knew all about the traitors, about the direct threat to the Republic, and you helped cover it up," the man raged behind the closed door. "I had to figure it out for myself; dig it up like some enemy secret!"

Dorne sat in stoic silence, reading something on her datapad, while Jorgan tried to catch snatches of the conversation from within the small antechamber. Then it grew quiet for so long that Jorgan wondered if they should intervene after all. He hadn't heard any blaster fire. When Balkar and Fynta emerged, there was little evidence in her smile that they had just been arguing. "Come on, let's get Jorgan back to the ship."

Fynta leaned in to say one more thing to Balkar before helping Dorne pull Jorgan to his feet. Balkar responded with a husky laugh, "Consider it done. I'll be in touch." Jorgan clinched his teeth as he distributed his weight as equally as he could between the two women, a task made more difficult by their dramatic differences in height. Sparing a look back over his shoulder, Jorgan scowled at the man. Honestly, he thought Fynta could do better than fraternizing with SIS types.

**The Thunderclap  
Four Hours Later**

Jorgan was choosing to ignore his poor behavior on the Hutt moon and the implications behind it as he searched for Fynta. He'd just gotten off an interesting holo and assumed the lieutenant would want to hear about it. Fynta was exactly where he knew she would be, in the pilot's chair on the bridge. It was where she looked the most relaxed, giving Jorgan the impression that Fynta Wolfe loved to fly. Seating himself in the co-pilot's chair took some effort due to his stiff leg, which didn't quite bend the way required to climb over the dividing console yet. Once he was finally settled, Jorgan looked over to see Fynta smiling at him.

"What?" Jorgan asked defensively.

"It'll be interesting watching you climb back out."

That hadn't occurred to Jorgan, and that fact must have registered on his face because Fynta's grin turned into a chuckle.

Jorgan cleared his throat and began checking the various systems just to keep busy. "Sir, you should know, General Vander contacted me." The message had been waiting when he got out of the koltotank after they left Nar Shaddaa.

"Oh?" There was real surprise in Fynta's tone, but she continued looking out the viewport at the blue of hyperspace.

"He said he'd talked it over with the brass and finagled a way to get me back on Ord Mantel." It was so ludicrous now, Jorgan gave a halfhearted laugh. "Offered me my old post, a promotion, and command of their operations there. Pretty sweet deal, overall."

Fynta cut her eyes over at him and in the dimly lit space, with the light of the control panels reflecting in them, Jorgan realized just how deep of a blue they were. "What about a raise?"

It wasn't the response Jorgan was hoping for, but he tipped his head none-the-less. "That too."

Fynta nodded thoughtfully, touching a couple of fingers to her chin. "Well, I hope you turned him down," she said in a low voice. "You're a member of Havoc Squad now."

Jorgan waited a moment, drawing it out, then smiled at her. That had been what he was going for. "You think I'd head back to some backwater planet like Ord Mantel? Fact is, I've been hitting the Empire harder than ever since I joined Havoc Squad. I didn't enlist to win medals or promotions. I enlisted to protect the Republic. My people already lost one home to the Mandalorians. I'm not about to let the Empire take another." Fynta winced, but didn't say anything about the jab. Aric hadn't intended it to be one, it just came out that way.

"Well, you always have the Thunderclap," Fynta said, reverting back to her normally playful self.

"Yeah." Jorgan leaned back in his seat and folded his hands behind his head, "I've just started to like you all. Would be a shame to have to start over."

"It would, wouldn't it?"

"Would you go back, if they offered it to you?" Jorgan had accepted that he wasn't getting any more out of Fynta about her previous career, only that she had been reluctant to leave it. Fynta hadn't been any more pleased with her placement in Havoc Squad than he had.

Fynta shook her head, "No. I like this life. I worked alone most of the time before, it's nice to have a squad. To have people to watch my back." She met his eyes briefly. "People I trust." Jorgan nodded, he knew exactly how she felt. The thought of going back to that cramped ops room on Ord Mantell was depressing. He had something here that made a difference, and he had certainly bonded with Fynta more so than he expected to. He trusted these women. Jorgan knew if his life were on the line, she or Dorne would pull him out, no matter what it took.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> gedin'la [geh-DEEN-lah] eccentric, cranky, in a mood
> 
> shabla [SHAH-bla] screwed up - impolite
> 
> shab - excrement (used as a curse)
> 
> beskar [BESK-gar] Mandalorian iron


	9. Lighting the Fuse

 

**120 Days after Ord Mantel**  
**Tatoo System  
** **Thunderclap**

Feeling refreshed and in a slightly better mood, Fynta Wolfe toweled her wet hair as she pushed open the door of the refreshers. Nothing quite beat the feeling of clean PTs and the smell of shampoo. Especially after two months quelling prison riots in the Outer System. Thankfully, Garza finally had some intel for them, now they could get back on the hunt for Tavus and the others. It wasn't until after she'd deposited her towel in the laundry bin that Fynta realized just how quiet the ship was. Either her two companions were asleep or in the small kitchen at the back of the ship.

The Thunderclap was a proficiently laid out ship. Her quarters were at the bottom of the stairs that led to the navigation controls and the bridge. The main room was centered in the middle, a big square space where all briefings via holo took place, with benches and chairs equipped with harnesses lining the walls in case they picked up another squad. The medbay, conference room, refreshers, armory, and barracks all attached directly to the main room. Then the storage room branched off the short corridor that led down to the airlock and the hatch to the engine room. The kitchen was the only odd room, almost as if it was an afterthought. It was barely big enough for the three of them to stand in and it was squeezed in behind the conference room. Effectively making it a kitchen/dining room set up.

Fynta ambled through the big meeting room and found Dorne and Jorgan in what looked to be a serious debate over Republic versus Imperial politics. The Last time she'd tried to end a conversation like this, they'd both looked at her as if she'd sprouted a second head, so this time, Fynta would keep her mouth shut.

"We are never going to agree fully on this, Sergeant. So continuing this debate is frivolous," Dorne was saying.

"I don't understand how you can defect to the Republic if you disagree so strongly with its policies," Jorgan countered. His tone wasn't angry, it was challenging. Fynta realized he was trying to get a rise out of Dorne the way he had done her on Ord Mantell, she doubted Dorne would take the bait.

Busying herself searching the cabinets for something edible, Fynta kept a careful ear on the tone of the conversation. "I didn't say that, did I?" Dorne pointed at him with her eating utensil, "I agree that the strict adherence to the regulations makes the Empire more efficient." She held a hand up when Jorgan started to interrupt. "However, there is a certain lack of mercy, a coldness, if you will, that accompanies it. Here in the Republic, everyone's emotions run high, people will fight over small slights and everyone having a voice must surely lead to chaos." Jorgan nodded silently. "However, those raw emotions lead to successful last stands and rallying the people to a common cause. The Empire uses fear and duty."

"I see," he said, tapping the spoon against his chin.

"If I may, Sergeant Jorgan, there are good people in the Empire, just as there are bad in the Republic. We cannot help where we are born." Dorne ventured, sparing a glance at Fynta. They both knew her stance on it already. She didn't hide her heritage from her crew.

Fynta finally decided on what to eat, a hearty aqualish medley, and leaned against the small counter while it self-heated in her hands. "Any word from Garza?" Of course, she knew the answer, but she had to ask.

"Nothing." Jorgan swallowed what he had been chewing before continuing, "We've been hovering around Tatooine for twelve hours. Maybe it's time to head down to the surface."

Fynta shook her head, "Too risky. I don't want to give away our position until it's time to move out." She pulled open the lid and blew off the steam. It smelled wonderful. "Either of you ever been there?"

Dorne shook her head, "I'm afraid my traveling has been restricted to Nar Shaddaa, Taris, and Coruscant. In the Core worlds, at least." She wasn't counting the moon prison riots, then.

"We'll need to change that." Fynta searched one of the drawers by her hip for a spoon and came up empty.

"I have been able to avoid it so far. Wretched hot, from what I've heard," Jorgan added, tipping the rest of the contents of his bowl into his mouth and holding out his spoon towards Fynta. They only had two. Who stocks a ship with only two spoons? She bet C2 did it on purpose just to piss her off. Shabbing droid.

"Thanks." That simple act of kindness was enough to halt the rise of her temper. "It is hot, no denying that, but it's a fascinating planet. I went with my parents once when I was a girl. I remember enjoying the trip."

Jorgan eyed her, "What exactly were your parents doing there?"

"They were probably up to no good. They were mercs." Fynta loved her parents, but she had never been disillusioned about what their career choices. They were good to her and Verin, which was all that mattered.

"Tatooine is a lot like Nar Shaddaa," Jorgan said. "Only not as congested. Everyone on that planet has something to hide."

"I see. Sounds like a lovely place." Dorne made a face and pushed her food away.

Fynta laughed, "Depends on where you visit."

* * *

Aric Jorgan finally took his turn in the showers. The stall walls were tall enough that they came to eye level with him and they actually had doors with an enclosed area to dry off. That didn't mean he felt right sharing them with the lieutenant and sergeant if it could be avoided. On occasions where it couldn't, he segregated himself to one side of the room and they the other.

Fynta smiled at Jorgan when he came out. The kind that always made him check his surroundings because she was up to something. "What?" That had become his standard greeting around the lieutenant when they were off the clock.

Fynta was sitting cross-legged in one of the chairs in the main room with a datapad in her lap, still in her PTs. Her grin widened. "I'm sorry, you just look so fluffy when you're fresh from the shower."

Fluffy was for kittens and pets. Jorgan didn't fancy himself as either. "I'm not _fluffy_."

Fynta nodded, unfurling her legs as she stood, leaving the datapad on the arm of the chair. The lieutenant walked a slow circle around Jorgan, looking him over from top to bottom. Suddenly his own PTs didn't feel like enough clothing. She had that effect on him and he really hated it. Jorgan stood his ground, but followed her movement warily. He'd been testing the waters of flirting back with the Fynta for a couple of months, out of practice as he was, she seemed to find it adequate, or maybe amusing. Only problem was, she was a lot better at it. That, and it was a colossally bad idea.

Eventually Fynta came to a stop in front of him, still smiling. Then she hopped up on her toes to rub the top of Jorgan's head. "Sure you aren't."

"Come in, Lieutenant. This is General Garza."

They both spun towards the holo, expecting to see the general, but it was set on voice only until someone accepted the holo transmission. Fynta gave him another once over, then stalked away. "Dorne! We've got the general on the line!"

Elara emerged from the medbay with a datapad propped on her arm and a stylus in her hand. "Present, sir," the medic responded without looking up. She'd fallen into her own rhythm on-board the ship and seemed more at home now.

The lieutenant accepted the call. "Good to hear from you, General. Have you got something for us?"

"Ah, there you are," Garza said. "I do, you're going to Tatooine. Anchorhead, to be more precise."

"We are near Tatooine now, sir, we decided it best to do our briefing before touching down," Fynta answered. She was now standing at ease in front of the terminal, completely serious.

Garza nodded, "Good. Tatooine is a vast and dangerous desert of a planet, and I'm afraid you can't count on having the Republic's support during your mission there."

Fynta gave a curt nod, "Havoc Squad can handle it."

"All the same, Lieutenant, I hate sending my people into uncharted areas like Tatooine without some kind of support. In the absence of military assets, I've arranged a local contact to assist you in your mission: Oleg Klerren, the mayor of Anchorhead. Mayor Klerren may not be a soldier, but he knows the area extremely well and can put his city's resources, whatever those may be, at your disposal."

"Sounds like a useful friend to have," Fynta responded. She hated politicians as much as any soldier, but Jorgan noticed she'd been putting an effort into learning how they operated.

"That's all I have for you at the moment. Proceed with the operation. Garza out." The image flickered away.

"I guess we'll figure out who our objective is when we get there," Fynta said as she climbed the stairs to the bridge.

Jorgan followed and settled himself in the co-pilot's seat. He'd come to terms with the fact that the lieutenant liked to fly her own ship. Dorne positioned herself quietly behind them, having expressed an interest in learning to pilot the Thunderclap in case they ever became _incapacitated._ So, she hovered, watching and learning. The woman could absorb knowledge like a sponge, no matter where or how she got it.

"Coordinates for Anchorhead Spaceport have been added, sir."

Fynta pushed the controls forward towards the distant ball outlined by the one of the system's stars. It steadily turned from shadowy orb into an orange mass that filled the view screen, one of its pale moons just coming around the west side. Jorgan fought back a feeling of dread as the cracked surface loomed closer. Fynta lowered them onto the dusty shuttlepad and instructed the ship's computer to enter defensive mode. "Everyone grab your gear. Tatooine is a big place and it's all hands on deck," Fynta said, climbing from her chair. Jorgan grumbled silently, he hated desert ops.

**Tatooine  
Anchorhead Spaceport**

Lieutenant Wolfe, Elara Dorne, and Aric Jorgan made their way confidently through the Spaceport. The sheer variety of sentient beings just outside their hangar was almost overwhelming. Humans were a prominent presence everywhere in the galaxy, except here in Anchorhead. Elara was certain there were no minorities on Tatooine, not if the spaceport was any indication for the rest of the planet, just vast variety. Although, she had read that the indigenous species here were known as the _Sand People_ and the _Jawa_. The lieutenant had explained to them on the ship that the latter were small beings who wore desert robes, but no one actually knew what their physical appearance resembled. Everyone else here was either hiding from someone, a slave, a smuggler, or just highly unlucky, according to Jorgan.

Elara had been so caught up in her own thoughts that she didn't notice the increase in dust in the air as they neared the exit of the spaceport until it scratched at the back of her throat. Her lungs were not used to this arid, heavy atmosphere. Outside the sliding doors, everything was light brown. Sand swirled around their ankles and whipped between sandblasted stone buildings. Most of which, in her immediate view at least, were built on massive stone foundations with their rooms slightly elevated with spiraled staircases ascending the outsides. The people, though of different species, all wore garments of a rough looking material. Elara assumed the cheaper material aided in keeping the sand off their skin, many also wore face scarves. A custom she planned to adopt at the first opportunity.

"The Mayor's office should be in that cluster of buildings over there," Jorgan said, looking over the maps downloaded to his personal datapad.

They hadn't gone far when Elara began to feel the effects of wearing heavy armor in such intense heat. Thankfully, Havoc Squad was privy to the latest equipment, including fibermesh body suits which were worn under the beskar armor. The fibermesh aided in regulating their internal body temperature and could wick away sweat to help cool them if a breeze happened to blow. It also kept the hot metal of her outer armor from touching her skin. Not to mention, it was small arms and knife resistant. Elara comforted herself with the knowledge that if need be, her new armor was air tight and climate controlled. All she had to do was put on the helmet.

**Anchorhead**

Havoc Squad was going over the details of a string of bombing while standing in the mayor's office. The man wasn't soft, no matter his political wealth, having been hardened by life on a tough world. His grey hair was swept back from a clean shaven face and nearly touched his shoulders. Fynta always found men with longer hair to be unnatural, then again, she spent most of her time around soldiers. "I'm so thankful that you're here. Please, Lieutenant, I need your help. My city, the people of Anchorhead, need your help."

"We'll assist where we can, sir." The words had no sooner left Fynta's lips than a woman rushed into the office. She slammed into Jorgan, bounced off, and came to a sudden stop at the desk with her dark hair flung over her face.

"Sir! Mayor Klerren, sir! There's been another bombing! An apartment building over in district seven!" The woman doubled over, gasping for breath.

The mayor's face went pale. "How many? Do we know yet?"

The woman stood up again and took one more trembling breath, pushing her hair from her face. "No, sir, but it's going to be bad. A lot of people lived in the building… a lot of _families_."

Fynta unhooked her helmet from the clasp on the back of her belt, "We'll proceed to the scene at once, Mayor." First to be helpful, second to see what they could dredge up about these bombs. It was the only lead they had.

Anchorhead was no Coruscant. The column of black smoke marked their target about three klicks to the north east. As the squad got closer to the scene, Fynta saw mother's holding soot covered children and rusting, ancient medical droids bent over prone bodies in the street. If these were the ones who'd survived, she didn't fancy facing the ones who hadn't. "Jorgan, isn't one of our objectives a bomb expert?"

"That's a big affirmative, sir. Pulled some pretty flashy stuff back on Ord Mantell if memory serves." It wasn't like either other them would forget it. Fynta had found out that the Zabrak chakaar had been responsible for that convoy ambush that had blown her armor to osik.

The courtyard was a mess, debris and other unidentifiable chunks littered the ground and the mixed smell of charred fiberglass and flesh was enough to overpower her filters and make her gag. Suddenly, Dorne was running. Fynta followed a short distance before she saw what had grabbed the woman's attention. A man reached out towards them and moaned. Fynta decided to stay back and let the medic do her job, but she wanted to hear what the man was trying to say. As Dorne knelt next to the man to begin her triage analysis, Fynta squatted on the opposite side. He was badly burned, the left half of his face was more white bone than skin, and the arm he reach towards Dorne was nothing but blackened and charred flesh. He moaned when Dorne touched him.

The dark haired woman who'd brought news of the bombing ran in behind them and knelt next to Fynta. She gasped, then reached out a hand and left it hovering just above the man. "Just hang in there, Benett." It looked as if she couldn't figure out exactly what she wanted to do, so eventually she settled for leaning closer to the man's face. "It's me, Cana, I'm your neighbor, remember? You… you're going to be ok. Just try not to move, all right?"

Dorne repositioned him carefully for a better look, producing another groan. Then she removed her helmet and set to work on administering first aid. Fynta assumed that meant the field scans were complete and Dorne knew how to treat the man now. "Do you know this man?" The medic asked without looking at the woman. "Are there any preexisting medical conditions that I should know of?"

If Cana noticed the accent, she didn't let on. "No, he's perfectly healthy as far as I know. Don't worry, Benett, you'll be safe now." The woman spoke in soothing tones, staying close to the man's face while she looked over at Fynta. "I-I think I'm the only person who lived here who wasn't' hurt. I was just up the street, heading for the market." Cana pointed through the archway. "One second I was walking, the next I was face down in the street. I didn't even see the explosion, I just felt it. All I could think to do was run to the mayor's office."

The man on the ground began mumbling, "Droid— it was a droid. Walked in the front door and boom—everything went white." Benett's voice was hoarse and rasping, as if his vocal cords had suffered as well.

Jorgan's helmet swiveled, taking in their surroundings. "Hard to believe a single droid could do so much damage." Fynta had to agree. Even completely packed with explosives, it would take more than the one. Unless the guy they were looking for had invented a new toy. The blast radius was massive, Fynta estimated more than one hundred meters. Benett became agitated, his one good eye grew wide with terror and he starting making pitiful attempts to move backwards while moaning incoherently. Dorne had her hands full trying to restrain him without hurting him further and Fynta grabbed his ankles.

"Sir, possible contact," Jorgan stated as he took a single step away from them.

Fynta looked over her shoulder and saw an old model protocol droid enter the courtyard. His metallic voice ringing cheerfully, "May I speak with you for a moment, gentle-being?" Then another, and another.

Fynta felt a cold tingling run the length of his spine. "Jorgan, take them down!" The words were out before she'd finished processing the scene. Jorgan opened fire, each droid he hit was instantly reduced to a pile of smoking scrap. The shabbing things were attempting to self-detonate. Dorne had thrown herself across Bennet to protect him from the shrapnel being thrown around when the droids shattered. Fynta let go of Bennett's feet, snatched up Dorne's helmet, and slammed it down over the medic's head. Last thing they needed was her being injured as well. Then Fynta threw Cana down beside Bennett and motioned with her palm down to tell the woman to stay on the ground. She didn't wait to see the woman's response before unslinging her rifle and charging into the battle. That was when Fynta realized she couldn't see everyone. "Jorgan, where are you, I don't have eyes on you."

"By the gate, trying to stem the flow," he answered. Fynta looked around, all the smoke from the fires and droids made it difficult to reorient with her surroundings. "Blast!" Jorgan swore. Fynta checked his POV and found herself staring into the pleasant expressions of a lot of droids. So, she headed towards the dense knot of the metallic bipeds under the archway, then realized she couldn't hear his rifle fire.

Fynta didn't think, she just ran, shooting at anything that gleamed. No longer worrying about head shots or collateral damage, she cannoned into the mass of droids. Jorgan was surrounded. Fynta could see him bent over trying to clear a jam and thought she might be able to reach him in time. Until the droids emitted a high pitched whine, signaling their ignition process. Fynta did the only thing she could think to do. There was a clear path, so she rammed her shoulder into the Cathar with everything she had, catching him off balance and knocking him to the ground. Fynta then planted a foot firmly on his back as a warning to stay down. Everything after that was a mixture blaster fire, blurred motion, and droid faces in razor sharp focus. Fynta didn't stop firing until the whining stopped.

The ground shifted beneath her, at least Fynta thought it had, until she realized it was Jorgan trying to turn over. Fynta could barely hear him over the headset through the pounding of her own heart in her ears and stumbled backward when she lifted her foot. "I owe you one," the Cathar said, rolling onto his back. Fynta responded with a nod and held out a hand, grunting as she hauled him to his feet. _Shab, he's heavy._

Once up, Jorgan glanced around them and even though Fynta couldn't see his face, she liked to imagine he was impressed. Plus, he hadn't called her an idiot yet. The droids fanned out in a circle on the ground, smoking holes peppering their once polished bodies. It was always after Fynta did something stupid that the full weight of the consequences set in, and she nearly always had to stifle a manic fit of laughter. Fynta liked to think that ability to react on instinct kept her alive, but in all probability, it would get her killed one day. At the very least it assured an exciting death.

When they rejoined Dorne, Cana was bent over her neighbor again, filthy, but unharmed. Dorne's forehead was bleeding from the stray shrapnel, her helmet once again discarded beside her. While Elara finished with her patient, Cana returned her attention to Fynta. "Is it over? Are they all dead?"

Fynta nodded, "You're safe for now." It was all that came to mind and when she looked to Jorgan for aid, Fynta discovered that he had stayed back to clear his weapon.

Cana stood suddenly and threw her arms around Fynta's neck, "You did it! You really did it! We're safe, Bennett, we're safe!" Fynta went rigid, this wasn't the kind of reaction she was trained for. Jorgan was watching, still bent over with his rifle propped on his knee and the slide locked open. Fynta felt the felt the urge to slap whatever expression his helmet hid right off his face.

The woman disengaged her grip on Fynta to rush over and repeat the process with Jorgan, who reacted much the same way as his commander. He held his arms out to the side, holding his rifle one handed, barrel to the ground. "We owe you our lives. I wish there was some way we could repay you."

Fynta couldn't resist, she activated his private line. "Yeah, Jorgan. Surely there's _some_ way she can repay you."

Jorgan growled in her ear, then cut the line. Fynta watched with grim satisfaction as he carefully unwrapped the woman's arms. "It's our job, ma'am," the Cathar replied over his external speakers.

Proper medical personnel were moving in now. Dorne gave the new medic a sitrep on Bennett after waving them away from herself, then joined Havoc at the entrance to the courtyard. Fynta leaned a little closer to the woman to inspect her wounds. "You okay, Dorne?"

Elara wiped a clean cloth across her forehead and replaced her helmet. "I'm fine, Lieutenant. Superficial cuts."

"Come on, let's get back to the mayor," Fynta said. "Before anyone else wants to thank us."

The trip back was filled with silent questions until Jorgan finally voiced one. "How could a single droid cause so much damage?"

Fynta nodded. "And where did the rest come from?"

Benett said he'd seen one, then as soon as Havoc arrives, there are dozens. Fynta got the impression that their presence on Tatooine hadn't gone unnoticed. Either that, or her luck had finally run out. From this point forward, Havoc would need to pay things smart until they knew exactly what they were dealing with.

The three soldiers, covered in fresh scorch marks and smoke stains, entered the mayor's office as one. Mayor Klerren sat in his chair, his head laid on folded arms as if praying. "We've stopped the bombings," Fynta said, removing her helmet. "There were no casualties beyond the initial blast." As long as Benett made it, that was.

The mayor's head shot up from the desk. "You really did it? Thank you, Lieutenant. Thank you so much. The city of Anchorhead owes you a great debt." He took a shaky breath and steadied himself. But when Klerren opened his mouth to say more, his young aid entered the room.

"Excuse me, Mayor Klerren? I'm sorry to interrupt, sir, but we have an urgent holocall, someone who claims to have vital information about the bomber's identity." Fynta raised an eyebrow at the aid. There was no way their job could be that simple.

Mayor Klerren shot to his feet, stumbling in his haste to get to the large holopad on the side of his office. "What? Really? Put him through, Cohn."

Fynta expected some vagrant demanding a reward for services rendered. She hooked her helmet on catch on the back of her belt and crossed her arms, prepared to take control of the situation. The mayor was in no fit emotional state to be left to deal with it alone. What she got, was a tall, brown skinned Zabrak.

"Ah! Uh, hello there, Mayor Klerren, sir. My name is Vanto Bazren, and I have vital information for you regarding th—" he stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening. Fynta was pretty sure her expression matched his. "I'm sorry, is that—? Sergeant, is that you? And Lieutenant Jorgan? It's me, Fuse! From Ord Mantell, remember?"

Fynta's shock gave her only a moment's pause. Not so much that it was Fuse, but that he was contacting them and was that excitement she heard in his voice? Fynta leveled him with what she hoped was an intimidating stare. "How could I forget," she responded in her best, _I'm pissed off, don't mess with me_ , tone. She also flashed Jorgan a warning glance to keep his temper in check, he looked about ready to tear into someone.

Fuse gave a nervous laugh and rubbed the back of his neck, "I know, uh, you might not believe this, but—I'm really, really glad you're here. If anyone can shut down the Imps and stop the bombings in Anchorhead, it's you."

So the failed attempt on her life had earned Fynta brownie points with one of the traitors. Fan-shabbing-tastic. "Flattery doesn't work on me, you know." Someone snorted behind Fynta, she didn't have to guess at who.

"Yes. Please, please trust me. With my help, you can stop them!" Fynta remembered first meeting the demolitions expert on Ord Mantell. She'd thought him soft and a little too sweet for the hard stuff. The stuttering and lack of eye contact was a good cover, at least, until that moment in the volcano when it disappeared. Fuse had played her for a fool and Fynta wasn't going to fall for it again.

"Lieutenant," Mayor Klerren broke in tentatively. "Who is this guy? Can he really help us stop the bombings?"

Fynta eyed Fuse for a full minute before answering. "Let's hear what the man has to say."

"Lieutenant? Congratulations." Jorgan snorted again and Fynta wondered if Fuse had any idea why the former ops commander was here and not on Ord Mantell. "Thanks for listening. I have to hurry, they—well, if I'm caught transmitting, it'll be bad. Really bad. The Imperials brought me here to design bombs. Desert planet, middle of nowhere, makes sense, right? Then Colonel Gorik, the Imp leader, wants to test the bombs. But he wouldn't use the empty deserts, he wanted a live testing ground. He chose Anchorhead."

Fynta listened while Fuse tried to convince her that he'd refused to build anymore bombs after finding out about them being used on live targets, hence landing himself in detention. She wasn't sure if she was buying it or not, but Fynta let the man talk while Klerren fumed quietly.

"A group of Geonosians are building the bomb droids. When each batch is finished, they're sent to coordinates that Gorik provides. The Geonosians are holed up somewhere outside Anchorhead, but I don't know the exact location." The Zabrak looked over his shoulder, "Guards are coming now. I have to hide the transmitter before I'm caught. Fuse out." The image vanished as Fuse reached out to unplug it. They were left in complete silence until Mayor Klerren spoke in a calmer voice.

"Look, Lieutenant, I don't know the whole story, granted, but I think he was telling us the truth. The Geonosians Fuse mentioned, a big gang of them moved into an abandoned town nearly two months ago." Klerren snatched up an out-of-date datapad from his desk. "They haven't been a problem, no worse than scavengers. We… we never imagined they were involved in the bombings."

"Sounds like we're making a house call." Fynta heard Jorgan's helmet beep. He was holding it under one arm so it was pretty close to her ear level, indicating that they'd received the information.

"I've sent you the coordinates. Oh and here," Klerren tossed Fynta a key card. "Take my car. Good luck out there, Lieutenant."

**Anchorhead  
Four Hours Later**

The Geonosians had been exactly where Fuse said they would be. Creepy looking creature with insect bodies and sheer wings that never stopped fluttering. Havoc Squad had interrupted a holo meeting with Colonel Gorik and the chief, who had been hit by friendly fire. At least they'd IDed their man and blew the droid factory to hell though. Fynta called that a win, even if Jorgan was still grumbling about it being a wasted trip.

Fynta parked in front of the Mayor's office and could hear familiar voices from inside as soon as the door was open. She didn't wait for the rest of her squad for a change, Fuse couldn't be trusted to speak with the mayor alone. Fynta needed to know what they were discussing. Fuse's holo image greeted her when she entered the office. He was holding his head in his hands and rocking back and forth, "I'm so, so sorry, Mayor Klerren. I… I just, I never imagined it would come to this, you know? Innocent people dead, all because of my decisions. I… I was so stupid." He'd get no argument from her. Fuse looked up as they entered the room. Fynta noted that he had a couple of new bruises, maybe he wasn't lying about being locked up after all, but she stopped just short of pity. If anyone knew what to expect when they got into bed with the Empire, it should have been a Havoc Squad soldier. "I really do want to help. Colonel Gorik is… well, he isn't pleased about you being here, Lieutenant. He has the entire operation on high alert."

"Well, I'm not too pleased with him being here either." Fynta's wrist comm vibrated but she ignored it. "I think it's time for you to tell me where you are, Fuse." Her comm buzzed again and she saw Jorgan step out quietly with a hand covering his wrist. That's why Fynta would inevitably choose him as her XO, he knew when to step up.

"Well, I would, but, uh, but there's a problem," Fuse answered, rubbing the back of his neck. "See, the base's location is a total secret. I have no idea where we are. The only people who have the base's coordinates are Gorik's commando teams. You'll, uh, you'll have to hit one of those teams to get the coordinates."

"Can't you decrypt your frequency so that we can triangulate it?"

"Afraid not, I'm bouncing this signal off Imperial and Republic towers. It was the only way to get through. I do know we are underground," the Zabrak replied with another apologetic shrug.

Fynta sighed, half the shabbing settlements were underground. "Okay. Fine. Just point me towards these commando teams."

When everyone was piling back into the car again, Fynta looked over at Jorgan, "So what was that all about?"

"Spaceport Authorities. Apparently someone tried to break into the Thunderclap," Jorgan answered.

Fynta had just installed a new security system, but it had never been tested before today. "Is the spaceport still standing?"

Jorgan nodded, "For now."

"That's all I need to know." She'd deal with any collateral damage later.

They rode in silence for a while. Fynta took in the scenery while Dorne read anything she could find on Tatooine, occasionally relaying facts she found interesting, and Jorgan silently fumed. Fynta wasn't sure how she knew that's what he was doing, but it was obvious the Cathar was in a foul mood. Maybe it was his breathing pattern, the deliberately deep breaths Fynta could hear him taking from the seat beside her.

"I say he deserves whatever the Imps do to him. The traitor," Jorgan growled finally. He did that a lot whenever they came within visual range of one of the old Havoc members. "Growing a conscience when your head is on the chopping block doesn't exonerate a man."

"If I may, sir." Dorne was a woman of intellect and strong opinions, but she always managed to sound polite. "It sounded to me like his head is on the, _chopping block_ , as you call it, because he grew a conscience."

Fynta thought the medic had a point. Fuse was young, somewhere between her and Jorgan's age, and impressionable. The kid was a genius who had been thrown in with the most ruthless murderers the Republic could muster in good conscience and he'd lost his way. However, Jorgan wasn't exactly wrong; actions have consequences. Dead or alive, Fuse wasn't going to see sunlight for a long time once they caught up to him. Back on Ord Mantell Fynta had felt a maternal desire to protect the Zabrak, even if he was larger and older than she was. Now she would settle for a good kick to the gett'se _._ Jorgan grumbled something unintelligible, which meant he agreed with Dorne and just needed a reason to stay mad so he could do what needed to be done.

Fynta wanted to lighten the mood a little before they went in facing who knows how many Imperial commandos to find the one access code they needed. So, she glanced over in the passenger seat to see Jorgan staring out over the horizon. The second sun was setting and it made for a beautiful picture. For a moment you could forget that this desert hosted some of the most downtrodden and poor in the galaxy. The failing light made the Cathar's normally orange hair look like a fiery gold and Fynta had an idea.

"Dorne, you have any sun protectant?" Fynta asked over her shoulder, not taking her eyes off the dunes in front of her. Not that there was anything to avoid hitting out here in Jundland.

"No, sir. I'm afraid I don't, but I'll make sure to requisition some for future use," Dorne replied in an annoyed tone. The woman hated unpreparedness.

Fynta nodded, "Good. I think Jorgan's head might be getting a tad pink."

Fynta still wouldn't look at the Cathar, but in her peripheral, she could see Dorne openly examining him from her position in the back seat and Jorgan turned full on, daring Fynta to meet his gaze. If she did, she would lose it. Finally, he rubbed the top of his head. "Ha Ha," Jorgan said without the slightest hint of amusement.

"I didn't know a Cathar's skin reacted so similarly to a human's in intense sunlight. I thought for sure the fur would protect it better," Dorne mused, hastily grabbing her datapad. She was probably researching more information on Cathar.

"It's not fur," Jorgan mumbled.

Fynta burst out laughing. Dorne hadn't been the original target but it worked all the same. Her spirits were lifted, at least. _These army soldiers need to learn how to lighten up,_ Fynta thought for the tenth time that week. Both her companions were so serious. She pitied them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> beskar [BESK-gar] Mandalorian iron
> 
> chakaar [chah-KAR] corpse robber, thief, petty criminal - general term of abuse
> 
> Osik [OH-sik] dung (impolite)
> 
> gett'se [GET-say] nuts (generic)


	10. Cutting the Fuse

**The Dune Sea**

It was fully dark by the time Havoc reached Fuse's coordinates. The lieutenant and Dorne thought the Zabrak was trying to make amends for his poor life decisions, but Aric wasn't convinced that he hadn't sent them into a trap. Of all the members of Havoc, Jorgan would have pegged that kid for a traitor last. Maybe Fynta was right and he had just been swept up in the fervor of his squad, but that didn't mean Jorgan trusted the guy.

The Cathar leaned against the mayor's hovercar, it was an old, dingy thing, but it was probably considered the high life on this dust ball. Dorne was attempting to convince Fynta to take the stim she was offering, assuring her that it was a simple pickup. They had been running almost non-stop for nearly eleven hours with only protein rations as sustenance. Jorgan knew Fynta's stance on stims from personal experience. Back on Ord Mantell she had only taken one after being awake for more than twenty-four hours while in hard combat. Fynta only conceded after he slipped it into her glove while the med droid was patching her up.

"Might as well give up, Dorne," Jorgan said. Fynta's helmet turned in his direction, he envisioned her narrowed eyes behind the faceplate. It was true what they said about bonding under fire, he'd just never understood just how quickly those bonds could form, or how strong they could be. Jorgan realized he already knew both of these women well enough to predict their actions and responses.

"That woman is the most stubborn person I've ever met," Dorne sighed, offering Jorgan the stim instead. Fynta had already started up one of the dunes at a crouch to get a better look at their surroundings.

Jorgan waved away the stim. "I agree. Bet she would too." The medic just shook her head and slipped the vial back into one of her many pouches. "The lieutenant just doesn't like stims. Her previous posting introduced her to a lot of addicts. Can't say I blame her, but I know my limits."

Dorne nodded up to where Fynta was laid out on her stomach on top of the dune, staring down her scope. "That's my concern, sir. I sometimes get the impression that the lieutenant believes she doesn't have limits."

Jorgan understood how Dorne felt, Fynta took too many risks without concern for her own safety. "She's still alive," he said by way of reassurance for both of them, then slipped his helmet on and activated the comms. "What's the plan, boss?" Jorgan knew she didn't want him calling her lieutenant any more than he wanted to be addressed as sergeant. So they'd developed a silent agreement on the matter.

"We need recon before we go barging into the cave. I want to know how many are in there," Fynta replied.

"I believe my scans are more advanced than yours. I'll get the information, sir," Dorne answered while scrambling up the dune. She dropped down next to Fynta to look through her scope as well.

"Probably. Okay, see that line of rocks to the east? That's going to be your best bet. Don't get any closer than necessary, Dorne. We only need an estimate." Jorgan listened to the women while they discussed strategy. Then Dorne slid back on the sand until she was below the ridge and scurried off in the direction Fynta had indicated. When the lieutenant didn't make a move to come down, he decided to join her.

Climbing sand dunes wasn't as easy as the holovids made it look. The sand was constantly shifting and for every meter Jorgan made it up, he slid back at least half. Finally, the Cathar flopped down on his stomach next to their commander and started searching for Dorne through his own scope.

"She's just to the south of those rocks," Fynta said without moving. "Check my POV."

Jorgan had only used the point of view system built into their helmets a couple of times. Each helmet had a built in audio and visual system that linked through their shared Havoc Squad frequency. Basically, anyone who had access to that frequency could hear and see everything the squad was doing. It was a lot more high tech than the old armor cams he was used to and these could be shut off internally, the latest updates making Tor's nifty little switch obsolete.

Jorgan did as she suggested. Fynta was looking thirty degrees west of where he'd started. The overlapping images were disorienting. "How do you see through all of this?"

Fynta moved for the first time, just the tilting of her head towards him. "Let me see it," she said, sliding down below the ridge, grabbing Jorgan's belt to tug him down too. The Cathar let out a startled gasp that Fynta ignored. "Dorne, I've got to check something with Jorgan's helmet, flash my comm if you need me."

" _Understood, sir."_

Fynta pulled off her helmet and held her hand out for his. Jorgan had learned better than to argue with the lieutenant when she was focused on an op, so he complied. Fynta turned it over in her hands and grimaced, "What in the—" Jorgan raised a brow bone when she slipped his helmet over her head. "Well, no wonder." It was bigger than hers, so the helmet bobbled when she moved. "Jorgan, see if mine fits over that big head of yours. I'm going to do some rearranging—don't worry I'm not going to touch any of the important stuff." The Cathar grabbed hers and shook the sand from it. "Or read your mail. . . ."

"Very funny."

Fynta's helmet barely fit over Jorgan's ears, but it was enough. The HUD was a lot more cluttered, but organized. His and Elara's personal comm icons were at the bottom right corner, the squad frequency icon was more prominent, but placed in the opposite corner to avoid any accidental contacts. There was another comm icon, so small Jorgan almost missed it, tucked up in the very top. He didn't have one of those that much he knew. When Jorgan stared at it too long, big red letters appeared: ACCESS DENIED.

That was interesting, but it was the POVs that he knew Fynta wanted him to see. His and Dorne's were lined up along the top. They were smaller, not even taking up half of the HUD, and in perfect detail. Jorgan understood now why it was so easy for the lieutenant to keep an eye on them. A quick glance up and he could see exactly where everyone was looking without losing sight of his own surroundings. Two focused blinks and whichever POV Jorgan was watching took up the entire screen, not just an overlay. Two more returned it to its proper place.

" _Who's out there? Drop your weapons!"_ The voice was Imperial.

"Fierfek _,_ " Fynta swore and snatched the helmet off his head with enough force to pop his ears. She shoved his back at him. "All fixed. Buckets on!" Fynta was already in motion, rifle clacking against her back as she slid down the dune.

Jorgan slammed his own down and sealed it before taking off after the lieutenant. His HUD hadn't changed too much, just a couple of icons moved around so that the POVs were set up the same as hers. He glanced up to see blaster fire chipping away at a rock just above Dorne's head and marveled at the clarity of the image. What he wouldn't have given to have had this kind of tech in his ops room on Ord Mantell.

"Contact!" Dorne called.

"Almost there, Elara," Fynta replied. She had a head start, but Jorgan's longer stride quickly pulled him level.

Dorne was squatted awkwardly behind a stone out cropping when they arrived. "Apologies, sir. It would seem I'm not quite as stealthy as I thought."

Fynta held a hand up to stop Jorgan while she kept running, then dropped and used her momentum to slide across a gap in the stones, the beskar screeching against rock, and smashed into Dorne before coming to a stop. "It happens, status report," Fynta said as if this were a simply training exercise.

Dorne grabbed Fynta's shoulders to steady them both before replying. "I've managed to take two out. Scans are reading five more are just inside."

Fynta stood a little higher to get a better vantage. Jorgan decided to test out the controls of his new setup and pulled her POV up to full size. What he saw didn't make him happy. "They're dug in pretty good, sir."

"Yeah, they sure are," Fynta responded, ducking down again. "We need to get behind them. Dorne, I need you to provide continuous cover fire. Don't be shy with the ordinance, we have plenty."

Dorne nodded.

"Jorgan, you and I are going to swing around that dune and flank them."

Fynta waited for Dorne to start firing, then lunged back across the gap to where Jorgan was waiting. She grabbed his shoulder pauldron without slowing down and hauled him along behind her. The night vision had kicked on, painting everything in a sickly green light with the white hot heat signatures of the commandos registering as bright lights.

The Imperial commandos must have had night vision too, because little pits started appearing in the sand at their feet as soon as they were in view. "Blow something up, Dorne," Fynta said calmly. The more people shot at them, the calmer the lieutenant became. There was a hollow sucking noise, the kind a rocket makes when it leaves the tube, then an explosion at the mouth of the cave that caused Jorgan's screen to dim instantly to protect his eyes. Fynta half slid, half ran down the other side of the dune with her weapon raised, but silent.

The carnage at the bottom was worse than Jorgan had expected. Dorne had scored a direct hit on something combustible and parts of black and red armor lay all around. One of the commandos groaned, he was missing a leg and an arm from opposite sides. Fynta put a bolt through his head without hesitation and moved further into the cave. "Jorgan, watch the door and check for survivors." She disappeared into the cave opening and hissed. "Shab _._ " Two Mandalorian curses in under an hour. It was going to be one of those nights. "Dorne, I need you in here."

Jorgan took up post outside, keeping his comms open to stay in the loop. Dorne rushed past him, gasping a few seconds later. "This man is an Imperial Technician. A good one judging by his insignia." There was another pause, "He's badly wounded, sir."

A male voice groaned. "S _urrender . . . I-I surrender! Please!_ " The man sounded young, but that could just be the accent.

"Make yourself useful," Fynta responded, all steel. "Coordinates for your hideout. Now."

" _Base—base coordinates. Here, on this data—d-datapad_ ," the man whimpered pitifully. " _Please . . . mercy, m—mercy. . . ."_

"Dorne?" The comm was silent. "Alright soldier, it's all over, you can go home now. Thanks for your cooperation."

" _Thank you . . . th-thank you_."

Jorgan didn't approve of her decision to let the man go, no matter how easily he'd given up the coordinates. It was a foolish move. When the two woman reappeared at the entrance, he switched over to Fynta's private comm. "Sir, permission to speak freely?"

"What is it, Jorgan?"

"I disagree with your decision to let that man live, he is an Imperial Technician, those rank right up there with officers. He'll call ahead to—"

Fynta held up what looked like a busted comm device. "Dorne," she said, switching back to the squad frequency. "Jorgan is curious about the man inside, would you fill him in please?" Then Fynta dropped the device in the sand and walked away.

"Yes, sir. The technician suffered an abdominal wound when their ordinance exploded. His upper and lower intestines were exposed and one lung deflated. He also suffered severe damage to his liver and right kidney," Dorne paused, her voice losing a little of its business like tone. "I gave him a sedative, he will be dead within ten minutes."

Fynta had a way of putting her squad in order without yelling or public humiliation, but it worked. Jorgan was effectively chastened and Dorne was none the wiser. He switched back over to the lieutenant's personal line. "Apologies, sir. I should have known better."

There was a pause. "On the contrary. I rely on you specifically to keep me straight. I know you will speak your mind and our unique history makes you the obvious choice for my conscience." Fynta paused again, "And I appreciate your subtlety." Jorgan heard her take a shaky breath. "He was only twenty-two, Aric."

**Jundland**

The light on the console was blinking when Havoc returned to the aircar. Elara kept thinking back to that boy. He was an unwelcomed reminder of the little brother she'd left behind on Dromund Kaas. Her father and mother were both successful officers in the Sith's military. She knew they were fine since her father had publicly disowned her, but her brother was young, just coming into his own. Elara missed him tremendously.

"Lieutenant. Lieutenant, can you hear me? This is Oleg Klerren. Are you there, Lieutenant?" The mayor appeared out of the middle of the console at Fynta's behest.

"I read you loud and clear," Fynta responded, removing her helmet. Even Dorne could tell that she sounded weary and the look on Jorgan's face seemed to confirm that something was bothering her.

"Fuse just called. He said Colonel Gorik is pulling out. He's going to run for it, Lieutenant!" The mayor flapped his arms angrily. It reminded Elara of a large bird attempting to fly. She found the image inappropriately comical and attributed it to the shock of what they'd just been through. "That scum killed dozens of innocent people for his _tests_. Those people deserve justice. Their families deserve justice! Please hurry, Lieutenant—Gorik has to pay for what he's done."

"We have the coordinates. Moving out now."

"You've got him on the run, now finish him off!" It was oddly aggressive for the soft spoken mayor, but Elara could understand his outrage. His people had been under attack for weeks, hundreds of innocent lives lost. "Good luck. Klerren, uh, Klerren out. Err, right." Elara smiled at the man as he lost a little of his steam at the end.

"Well, this is shaping up to be one of our faster missions," Jorgan said once they were all back in the car.

"It helps when the quarry wants to be caught," Fynta agreed.

"Do you think he's really changed sides again? Do you trust him?" Jorgan asked.

"I only trust my squad, Jorgan. Everyone else I approach with healthy suspicion. But I do think that Fuse is trying to make right, if not by the Republic, by the people who were harmed by his actions."

"Think that includes us?" Jorgan grumbled. Fynta merely shrugged in response.

The coordinates took them deeper into the desert. The first sun was beginning to rise by the time Havoc reached the cave. There were no guards outside, no signs of activity in the last several hours, and Dorne began to wonder if they had arrived too late. The only signs that anyone had been there at all were a couple of droids who still worked tirelessly at their jobs, even though their human masters had abandoned them. "Sir," Elara ventured. "It appears that everyone has left." Her HUD chirped, a single white dot appearing on the screen. "Correction, there is still one lifeform in a room at the back of the cave.

"Well, let's go see who it is." Fynta picked up the pace as they passed under an engraving in the overhead rock that read _Kalarath Imperial Base_. It was a large, vaulted room that might have been beautiful if it weren't for the flashing red lights throwing gyrating shadows across the walls. It reminded Elara of a nightmare she'd had once.

"Lieutenant!" Fuse called from behind the forecshield blocking his cell door. "You made it just in time, Gorik called for a full-scale evacuation." The Zabrak bounced on his toes excitedly and pointed up a metal ramp that led off through another tunnel. "He's already at the hanger in the back of the base overseeing the evacuation, and he has my bomb designs with him! Please, you have to stop Gorik before he escapes with those designs!"

_"Warning! Warning! Self-destruct sequence initialized. All personnel must evacuate to the hanger area immediately. This is not a drill. Countdown sequence initialized. Warning! Warning! Facility detonation imminent."_

"Great," Jorgan mumbled.

"Oh, no. We're too late. The entire base, it's—it's going to be vaporized, we—we're out of time," Fuse sighed and hung his head in defeat.

Fynta banged on the shield closing the Zabrak in to get his attention. "There must be some way to shut down the self-destruct sequence. Think."

Fuse glanced up at the lieutenant, then took a steadying breath. "You'd have to go to the command center to cancel the detonation. Y-you could even unlock my cell from there." He shook his head, "But-by the time you reach the command center and stop the explosion, Gorik will have escaped with my bomb designs, that can't happen."

"I'm sure we can stop the explosion and get Gorik if we move fast enough." Fynta turned towards her squad, "Dorne get to that command center—"

"No," Bazren interrupted. "You—you have to leave me. By the time you cancel the self-destruct, Gorik will be long gone. Please, there isn't time to argue. It's down to me or the bomb designs, and . . . well, there's only one good choice there. He's got a lot of fire power with him, it will take all of you to take him down!" Fuse held his hands together, Elara realized he was begging.

Elara was already searching for signs of the control room, increased electrical output or even radiation spikes. Once a likely candidate surfaced, she started running, but Elara was still aware of her squad mates' voices over the comms. "I've made my choice, and I'm getting you out of here," Fynta was saying. "Jorgan, you're with me."

Elara found a small room dwarfed by a massive computer console on the far wall. The countdown had reached the twenties and Elara hoped she fast enough to enter the shut off sequence before it hit single digits.

_Fifteen seconds until detonation_

"Dorne?" Fynta asked.

"Nearly there sir." Elara could feel the nervous sweat trickling down her spine.

_Ten seconds until detonation_

One more line, she could do this. "Got it!" Elara yelled, probably too loud, but there was far too much adrenaline coursing through her system to remain calm.

_Shut off sequence accepted._

Elara let out a shaky breath and flatted both palms against the computer panel, taking careful breaths to slow down her hear rate. After a moment, she switched to the lieutenant's POV. "Any luck on your end, sir?"

Fynta was staring at a large hanger with Jorgan crouched in the middle, examining something on the floor. Elara switched again, this time to his. Jorgan was looking at an older man with deep-set wrinkles and wide, lifeless blue eyes. _Colonel Gorik._ Elara had been so intent on her own task, she'd subconsciously blocked out the sounds of battle.

"Got them," Wolfe called. Jorgan's perspective shifted and now it was the lieutenant who was kneeling. "Okay, good work guys, rendezvous at Fuse's cell. Oh, Dorne, don't forget to unlock it, please."

Elara examined the array of buttons and switches and settled for one she calculated most likely to provide the desired result. "Yes, sir."

**Kalarath Imperial Base**

Fuse was sitting cross-legged on the floor when Fynta and Jorgan returned. He looked defeated and true to his word, hadn't moved an inch since Fynta left, even though the door was standing open. "Got the plans," she assured him, patting one of the pouches on her belt.

Fuse looked up, "I guess I should thank you. You saved my life; after everything I did."

"Havoc Squad doesn't leave men behind," Fynta answered. She wanted the Zabrak to remember that, whatever became of him.

Bazren climbed to his feet, dusted off his pants, and looked Fynta in the eye. "Lieutenant, there is nothing I can do to make what we did to you right. But I can try to keep it from happening to others. Tavus, he's not a bad man, but what we did was wrong."

Fynta nodded. "Think of it this way, with you alive, we have a chance of bringing the rest of them in peacefully. You know I can't stop until I've found them all."

The mixture of emotions that played across Fuse's face was hard to follow, mostly, it looked like grief. "Well, consider me officially surrendered. I'll stay where you can see me."

"It's a long trip back to Coruscant," Fynta said. The Zabrak would be facing a firestorm when he got back and that wasn't including what Garza was going to do to him.

"I'm ready, Lieutenant." Vanto Bazren squared his shoulders and started towards to entrance.

**Anchorhead**

Jorgan had spent the last six hours in peaceful oblivion. The mayor had been kind enough to set them up in rooms and the Cathar had fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He woke to someone pounding on the door and stumbled out of bed to tell whoever it was to piss off. Turned out to be the lieutenant, so Jorgan swallowed his comment. She took one look at his disheveled appearance with raised eyebrows, then shoved him inside and shut the door. "What are you doing answering the door like that?" Fynta asked, gesturing up and down the length of his body with both hands.

The sleepy fog was clearing and Jorgan realized he'd come in, removed his gear, and climbed into bed. Once again he was standing in front of his CO in nothing but his shorts. It was becoming a bad habit. "Sorry, sir. I was still asleep. What time is it?" Glancing at the chrono on the night stand, Jorgan saw that he still had two hours before their scheduled briefing.

Fynta was fighting back a smile, no doubt adding it to the long list of things he did to amuse her. "You surprise me, Jorgan. You're not exactly the same man I met on Ord Mantell. Either that, or you're one hell of an actor."

Jorgan was pretty sure he wasn't being scolded. "You have that effect on men, sir."

It was a risky move, but worth it when Fynta started laughing in earnest. "Well, our meeting has been moved up to now, so clean up and get dressed, soldier. Garza wants us on the move again." She paused at the door and her eyes traveled over him again. Then Fynta shook her head with another laugh and shut it behind her. Jorgan was left wondering if she was right, maybe he wasn't the same man from Ord Mantell anymore.

The mayor was in good spirits when Havoc reached his office. "Lieutenant! You made it!" Klerren jumped to his feet and ran up to shake her hand, allowing Jorgan a moment of satisfaction at the startled look on the lieutenant's face. One that quickly vanished at Klerren's next words. "Your General Garza called, I filled her in on what I know, nice lady. Stern, though."

Jorgan stifled a snort, this guy didn't know the half of it. Fynta's jaw muscles tighten, but she didn't look back. "General Garza is an exemplary officer," the lieutenant responded on automatic, though Jorgan knew how often the two women butted heads over mission specifics.

"She definitely seem to know what's what," Klerren laughed. "Comes with the job, I guess. Anyway, she wants you to call her from your ship before you take off. She was pretty insistent about it, actually. I told her I'd given your team some rooms to get some sleep in. Hope nothing is wrong." Klerren looked like a kid who'd just ratted on his friend, hoping that by letting them sleep he hadn't gotten them into trouble. Jorgan had to give the man points for that. Turns out there are a few decent politicians out there after all. Way out there.

"Post mission debriefing—standard procedure," Fynta assured him.

Klerren let out a relieved breath. "Oh, good. Personally, I think I've had enough excitement for three lifetimes. I don't know how you do it. Well, Lieutenant," the mayor offered his hand to Fynta again, "The people of Anchorhead owe you an incredible debt." She accepted, then he moved on to Jorgan and did the same, "You've saved countless lives from a threat we never could have imagined." Jorgan obliged and Dorne was ready when Klerren made his way to her before turning back to Fynta. "I managed to scrape together a small reward for you. It's the least we could do to thank you."

Fynta waved her hand to dismiss the idea, "No reward is necessary."

"Well, that's generous of you. I know the people affected by these bombings will really appreciate it. I'll send it their way." The man had yet to show concern for anything apart from his people, so Jorgan he would be honest enough to follow through on his promise. "So, I guess this is where we part ways. It's been a real pleasure having you here, Lieutenant, and your team. We will never forget what you've done for us. Good luck. You'll always be welcome in Anchorhead."

"Thank you very much, Mayor." Fynta saluted, even though the mayor had no idea what to do in return. It was a sign of her respect. Jorgan hoped one day the man understood just what that meant.

Once back on the ship, Fynta headed for the bridge while Jorgan stowed his gear. "Alright, people," her voice came over the ships intercoms. "Garza is going to call us when she has more information on Alderaan. She said it is a delicate situation." _When isn't it?_ Jorgan thought. "But couldn't hurt to go ahead and make our way there."

Jorgan decided to grab a shower while Fynta set the navacomp for Tepasi. It was a four day break as far as travel time and the planet was next door to their objective. Plus, Fynta swore it was the best place to find a good drink in that sector. Aric's room was large and empty since Dorne had chosen to take up residence in the medbay, but he knew it wouldn't last forever. Unless Fynta managed to fill the squad with women. That thought was so chilling that he stopped in the middle of unpacking. Surely she wouldn't do that to him. Then Jorgan remembered who he was dealing with and let out a low growl. Of course she would.

Jorgan was distracted when he noticed his datapad blinking, it took it a moment to register because it was the new message light. He rarely received messages, Jorgan didn't even really know anyone who might want to contact him. In the end, the Cathar opened it halfheartedly, figuring it would be a sales ad or something.

It wasn't.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> Fierfek [FIRE-fek] a Huttese slang word that meant "hex" or "curse," but was commonly accepted to mean "poison" by non-Huttese-speaking races. Later adopted as an expletive.
> 
> shab - excrement (used as a curse)
> 
> beskar [BESK-gar] Mandalorian iron


	11. Plausible Deniability

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm aware this is technically not how this mission is supposed to go, but I'll never pass up an opportunity to play with Balkar. Plus, it's been awhile since I've beat anyone up.

  **The Thunderclap**

Fynta had decided to catch up on some rest while they waiting to hear from Garza and was nearly asleep when Jorgan came sweeping into her room without slowing down to knock first. That little detail was enough to jar her awake and put her instantly on alert. "What's wrong?"

"Bad news, sir," he didn't even pause, "I just received a dispatch from command. It's my old sniper-squad, the Deadeyes–they've been captured." Jorgan held out his datapad and Fynta got up to take the device and read over the open message while he began pacing back and forth. "Happened during a routine officer hunt. Somehow the Imps got the drop on them, rounded up the entire unit." The Cathar balled his fists and growled, "Careless."

Fynta went to her desk, noting the hint of soap as she brushed passed him. "How long have they been in Imperial custody?" She flopped into the chair and spun around to grab her datapad.

"Weeks, more than enough time to be marched in front of a firing squad." Jorgan stopped pacing and sighed. "Look, something about all this doesn't sit right with me. The Deadeyes were operating on Nar Shaddaa. That territory is neutral ground. They shouldn't have had any business operating there."

Fynta took a few notes, then handed the datapad back to Jorgan. "You think there's more going on here?" Because she certainly did, but she didn't have enough information. Fynta needed more before she was ready to bring Jorgan in.

"Can't say yet. I need to know what happened to the Deadeyes, and if they're still alive. Missions on Nar Shaddaa are usually green lit by the SIS. With your permission, I'd like to meet with them, see what they know."

Fynta nodded, it's what she had been thinking too, just a little different than what Jorgan probably had in mind. "I'll get ahold of Jonas Balkar. He may be able to help us."

Jorgan didn't look happy about it, but he kept his reservations to himself. "Your call. We can rendezvous at that dive he hangs out in. With any luck, he'll have something for us."

"We don't want to get ahead of ourselves. The SIS are jumpy." Jorgan looked even less pleased about that, but again, stayed quiet. This was her area of expertise and what her Cathar friend didn't know yet, was that Fynta already had that date scheduled with Jonas.

**Orbit around Tepasi**

Jorgan had spent most of the trip staring out the forward port as the stars streaked past and wondering what had happened to his old squad. Heaving himself to his feet, Jorgan headed for the stairs to let the others know they'd entered orbit around the forested planet. This time, the Cathar stopped to knock on the lieutenant's door, then paused, knuckles poised in the air. He could hear voices inside.

"Sounds great, doll. What should I wear?" It was Jonas Balkar.

"Something sensible. It's only drinks," Fynta teased.

"Sure it is. Drinks is where it always starts." Jorgan heard Fynta chuckle in response and Balkar went on. "Alright, well I'll see you in an hour."

"Looking forward to it."

"I'll just bet you are," Balkar said, then it was quiet.

Jorgan knocked, pushed the door open, and stopped in his tracks. Fynta was wearing civilian clothes. He didn't even know she owned civilian clothes. Just a pair of brown leather pants and a tight leather vest to match over a white shirt. It was simple, yet striking at the same time. Her hair was down too, freshly brushed and soft looking. Instead of announcing his presence, Jorgan simply stared.

"Yes?" Fynta asked without looking from the note she was scribbling on a thin piece of flimsiplast paper.

"We're about to enter orbit." Jorgan still didn't move. "You look . . . nice." It was odd seeing the lieutenant like this. He'd seen her out of armor, even in her underwear, but never like this. Not looking like, well, like a woman.

Fynta smiled. "Thanks. I've got a date"

"A date?"

"Need to butter Balkar up if he's going to give us intel on the Deadeyes. It's how the SIS works," Fynta responded. Jorgan repressed the growl that always built at the back of his throat when Balkar's name came up.

"Sounds complicated," Jorgan replied, succeeding in keeping his voice level. The Cathar had to come up with a new plan for how he would spend his evening. Jorgan had planned to invite Fynta out for a drink, she had a way of taking his mind off things.

Fynta laughed. "You have no idea." This was her territory, Jorgan wasn't a huge fan of the SIS, but knew her old squad had worked hand in hand with them almost exclusively.

Dorne joined Jorgan in the doorway, nodding politely before addressing Fynta. "Sir, I'd like to request permission to do some research on the local flora and fauna." She paused, "Going on a date?"

"No problem, and yes, I thought I'd try my hand at dating." Fynta checked her reflection in the tiny mirror from the medical kit. "It has been a long time and Balkar's a charming enough guy, so why not?"

"Indeed. Although, I myself find relationships of any kind outside my squad a distraction at best. I've seen the separation brought on by military service tear many families apart."

Fynta nodded. "Noted, Dorne."

"Forgive me, sir." Dorne put her hand to her chest, "I didn't mean to imply, only sharing my personal opinion."

"I was joking, Dorne." The ship shuddered slightly, caught in the invisible snare around the planet to keep undesirables from landing without permission. "Looks like we are here. I hope you both have a relaxing evening. Keep your comms close by just in case Garza calls." Fynta got up and shooed them from the room ahead of her, then made for the bridge.

"What do you have planned for the evening, sir?" Dorne asked.

Jorgan wasn't sure. His plans had just made plans with someone else. "Maybe a few drinks."

"That sounds nice, I've heard the local fauna are quite friendly, they are burrowing creatures who glow. Would you like to join me on a short tour?"

Elara gazed up at the Cathar with bright eyes full of optimism and Jorgan smiled. "Sure, why not." At least neither of them would be alone.

**Tepasi  
** **The Petite Achtnak Cantina**

Fynta checked her reflection in the mirrored window before walking into the cantina. Jonas Balkar, the SIS agent with the dashing smile, stood and wrapped an arm around her. "The lengths I have to go to in order to get you alone," he whispered, making it look as if he were nuzzling her neck. It was a hell of an act.

"You know me, work, work, work," Fynta replied just as quietly before pushing him away with a playful laugh.

Jonas sighed, but didn't let go. "I guess this means we're skipping the drinks." Draping an arm over her shoulder, he steered Fynta towards the exit. Just before they were out the door, he dropped his arm around her waist and slipped a hand into her back pocket. Fynta smirked, Jonas was making it clear that he was going to milk this for all it was worth. She had to admit, it was nice to be fawned over again.

The taxi ride down to the Deforested District was a quiet one. For all their flirting, Fynta and Balkar had little to talk about. She appreciated his willingness to help, though. Jonas leaned back in the seat and crossed his hands behind his head. Any other day, he would have been an appetizing picture of masculine ease, but today, Fynta wasn't feeling it.

"So," Balkar began, leaning his elbows against the back glass of the air car. "Why am I here with you instead of Sergeant Furry? Doubt he was too pleased about you wandering off with me."

Fynta chose to ignore the implication and just answered the question. "I need all the facts before I take this back to him. I'm sure you can understand that." Jorgan was too close to this, Fynta couldn't bear to bring him along and find corpses instead of coordinates. At least this way, she'd be able to soften the blow.

Balkar laughed, "Are you kidding? The SIS _live_ on half-truths and bad intel. Haven't you heard?" The taxi came to a stop and the driver told them to enjoy their stay. Jonas stretched and Fynta made sure her blaster was secure in its hidden holster down the back on her pants. The SIS agent lifted and eyebrow. "Remember, no shooting. We are only here for the information. Not revenge."

Fynta smiled her sweetest smile. "Yes, dad." Jonas chuckled as he drew her close to him so they could saunter down the street like two intoxicated lovers and not draw attention to themselves. "What exactly are you doing here?"

Jonas looked down, his expression more serious than usual. "Local anarchists have developed a foothold here, we're pretty sure they've got Imperial backing. So, I joined up." He nodded ahead of them, "Okay, just through those doors."

Fynta followed Balkar's lead as he flashed an ID card at one of the guards and winked. The guard chuckled, but didn't move to intercept them. Balkar repeated the drill with the next three. Fynta didn't miss the fact that none of them appeared surprised to find Jonas strutting around with a woman under his arm. "See. Easy." He stopped in front of a room that housed a large computer terminal, pulled her against his chest, and stumbled inside.

Balkar gave a roguish smile and patted Fynta's butt before releasing her and walking to the terminal. "Okay, let's see what we can find."

Fynta had chosen this location due to its Imperial presence and the fact that she knew Jonas would do anything to make sure she owed him a favor. Their agreement had been cryptic at best. Basically, he helped her find the Deadeyes, and she'd come the next time he needed something off the books. Verin had said once there was an Imperial prison camp hidden somewhere in the forests, so Fynta assumed that was Balkar's main mission. Although, he seemed to be enjoying this one too.

Jonas spent a long time searching through the records while Fynta kept watch at the door. The longer they remained here, to more likely it was they would be spotted. "Well, they're not in the cell block," he called from the terminal. So Balkar already had proof of the prison. Fynta wondered what else he was looking for here and how badly she was risking his cover.

Finally, the SIS agent sighed. "I'm not seeing them anywhere. It looks like your contact may have sent us on a wild-wait." No one was outside, so Fynta ambled over to where Balkar was stationed. "I may have something. It's an outgoing holo message. Recent."

Jonas opened the file and a middle aged man with rod straight posture and an ugly mustache appeared on the screen. "This is Captain Titch, confirming the details for outgoing prisoner transfer 993 - B. We've got three Komori trespassers, a couple of spice peddlers, and our catch of the day, the legendary Deadeyes."

Fynta's stomach flipped at the familiar squad name. "At least we know they're alive."

"Or were at the time of this transmission," Jonas added.

Fynta scowled at the Imp, who continued on unhindered by their quiet discussion. "As per protocol, we've split the Deadeyes up and transferred them to off world labor camps. I've encrypted the coordinates for their designated camps into this transmission. Those scum can spend the remaining years working off their debt."

"There's a message in there. Guess the Imps don't make things quick for their POWs." Jonas was in his element, chewing on the side of his cheek while he worked. "Lucky us."

"Can you make a copy of those coordinates?" Fynta asked.

"On it." Jonas blew out all the air in his lungs in one puff, ruffling the thick, brown hair that laid over his forehead. "The encryption here is good. Too good. I can't crack it here."

"Alright, finish the copy and let's get out of here." Fynta was starting to feel uneasy. They had been standing still too long, it was bound to be noticed.

"Got it, let's go." Jonas tossed over the copy and Fynta shoved it in her back pocket. When they turned back towards the door, the exit blocked by a wall of large, angry looking men in heavy armor.

"Going somewhere, Jonas?" The closest one said, arms crossed over his broad chest. He eyed Fynta. "Not going to share with your old friends? We might even forget we saw you in here."

Fynta and Jonas shared a glance. He nodded slightly and she pulled a blaster.

**Tepasi Spaceport Hangar  
** **The Thunderclap**

The forest tour was interesting, but it hadn't been enough to quell Jorgan's annoyance about Fynta being out with Balkar. Then he'd grown increasingly agitated with himself because the lieutenant was grown woman and could spend her evening with whomever she chose. In the end, Jorgan pinned it down to the simple fact that a soldier like Fynta Wolfe deserved more than to become one more notch on the bedpost of a man like Balkar.

Jorgan had excused himself from the cantina he and Dorne had stopped at afterwards in an attempt to save her from his declining mood. The medic had smiled politely, as she always did, and wished him goodnight. He had every intention of finding a hotel within his budget, but before he knew it, Jorgan was back at the ship. He figured that was as good a place to sleep as any. As soon as the door opened, he could hear swearing echoing off the abnormally quiet hull. With all the lights and equipment turned off, the ship felt less like a safe haven and more like a tomb.

"Fierfek!"

It was definitely Fynta. Jorgan was about to announce his presence when something struck a wall and clattered across the floor. Last time Fynta had resorted to throwing medical equipment was when she'd been trying to sew up her own head wound. As he came down the short hallway that led from the airlock, Jorgan saw light spilling out of the medbay and vials rolling into the main room. Fynta's breathing didn't sound right, but it took him a moment to realize what the problem was. She was panting. He'd seen her run three klicks in full beskar'gam without breaking a sweat, but now it sounded like she couldn't catch her breath.

Stepping over the medical equipment scattered across the floor, Jorgan leaned into the lit doorway. "Fynta?"

The lieutenant jumped with a gasp and wrapped an arm around her torso. Standing doubled over, the free hand braced on her knee. Fynta looked up and tried to force a smile, "Shab, Jorgan. Don't do that."

Fynta was still breathing heavily, Jorgan could see her shoulders shaking with the effort. Her lip was split and bleeding and she had the beginnings of what would be an impressive black eye. Jorgan was instantly furious. "Did he do this to you?" The Cathar tried to keep his voice level, but his blood was boiling. He was going to kill Jonas Balkar.

"What?" Fynta's expression went indignant and she straightened slowly, wincing with the effort. "You really think Balkar could do this to me? Come on, give me some credit, he's SIS for fierfek's sake, barely a field agent." Fynta reached for the table for support but undershot and stumbled forward.

Jorgan had her by the shoulders before he realized he had moved. "Easy." Fynta had never been this shaky, not even when she'd shot that bomb in cheap durasteel armor on Ord Mandell. The lieutenant didn't even object when Jorgan redirected her towards the medbay table. "What happened?"

Fynta sat slowly, keeping one arm around her middle. "Got into a brawl with some bigger guys in better armor." She started fumbling one handed with the buttons on her vest. "Shab," she finally hissed.

"Let me help." Jorgan didn't move closer until Fynta dropped her hand back onto her lap, indicating her acceptance. "Where was Balkar?" Aric asked as he unclasped the buttons, being _exceptionally_ careful to touch only the buttons.

"Oh, he was there too. I dropped him at the medcenter before coming here." Fynta gasped again when Jorgan opened the vest to slide it off her shoulders. It was heavier than he expected and he realized there was a thin sheet of durasteel sewn into the lining. This wasn't civilian clothing at all, but something she probably used to wear in her SIS days. Meaning Fynta had gone prepared for a fight. But why?

Jorgan waited patiently as Fynta worked her shoulders back to let the heavy garment slide down onto the table. She didn't start breathing again until it was clear, her white under shirt was speckled with blood. He nodded towards it, "Not all yours I take?"

"Only a little." Fynta was still struggling to breathe. "I think I need your help, Jorgan." He only nodded in reply, Lieutenant Wolfe never asked for help. "My chest feels like a Wookie's sitting on it," she added with a grunt.

"Have much experience with that?"

Fynta shot him a playful glare. It honestly wouldn't have surprised Jorgan if she did. He knew those symptoms though, it happened from time to time when a soldier took a big hit in heavy armor. The body was kept intact, but a lung would collapse from the pressure. Collapsed lungs and kidney damage killed almost as many soldiers as blaster fire.

Field medical training kicked in and Jorgan's brain began running through procedures, grateful for the distraction. "We need to remove your shirt. Can you manage or do you need help?"

Jorgan had meant it innocently enough, but Fynta couldn't resist. "Trying to get me out of my clothes already?" She laughed at his expression, then immediately flinched. Holding the bottom of the shirt with her left hand, Fynta attempted to slide her right arm out of the sleeve, then stopped. Aric realized she couldn't move her left arm. The lieutenant gave him a pitiful look. "I think I dislocated my shoulder. Again."

Fynta was right, her left arm was useless right now, but Jorgan couldn't even consider resetting it until they sorted her breathing problem. There wasn't a way to remove the top without moving her arm, so Jorgan grabbed a pair of shears instead. "It's ruined anyway. I'll buy you a new shirt." Clipping the top of the sleeve, Jorgan began to cut carefully down the left side seam. Fynta's breathing quickened a little when he brushed a particularly tender spot on her ribs. It was a testament to her discomfort that generally smart assed lieutenant didn't have any more to say about him removing her shirt. When he was finished, all that was left was to fold the fabric back and discard it.

Fynta lie back on the table with a little help and did her best to keep calm, but Jorgan could see the panic rising in her eyes as what little oxygen she had managed to gulp in was denied to her while her back. He grabbed a needle out of the drawer and tried to ignore the dread rolling through his gut. Jorgan had done this twice in his nearly fifteen years of military service and it had terrified him both times. Taking a calming breath, he felt for the space between Fynta's ribs, then slammed the open ended needle down into her chest without warning. It was followed by a pop, Fynta's scream, then she took one big, shuttering breath.

The lieutenant laid there with her eyes screwed shut for a few more seconds, taking deep breaths. Jorgan pulled the needle out just as quickly and was relieved to see Fynta still breathing normally, meaning the lung wasn't permanently damaged. "We need to take care of that shoulder." She nodded while he slowly stretched her arm out, grasping just above the elbow with one hand, and bracing the other against her ribcage. "So are you going to tell me what happened?"

"Promise not to be angry?"

"No." Jorgan pulled, gently at first, then more forcefully until he heard that sickening pop that accompanied a joint slipping back in place. Fynta let out another strangled gasp. "But tell me anyway," he said, folding her left arm back over her chest.

"I need to sit up." Fynta waved her right hand at him. Jorgan grabbed it and slipped his free hand under Fynta's neck to help her into a sitting position. The soft hair that he had admired earlier was now stiff with blood and her body was still trembling from the strain she'd put on it. Fynta leaned forward, propping her forehead against Jorgan's shoulder to steady herself, still hugging her left arm close. "Back pocket, right cheek."

Jorgan reached around, pulling on something sticking out of Fynta's pocket. It was a holodisk. "What's on it?" Examining the small disk in his palm.

"I'm hoping coordinates to where the Deadeyes are being held." Fynta leaned back and looked into Jorgan's face. He could smell her breath, still acrid with the remnants of pain.

Jorgan leaned forward on the table, palms flat on either side of the holodisk as he stared at the device. "You knew they'd been captured before I told you." It wasn't a question. Fynta should have told him immediately. Jorgan began to second guess the bond he thought he shared with this woman, who spoke so highly of openness and honesty within the squad.

"I did. It's the reason I wanted to come here, and set up that date with Balkar."

"But you didn't trust me enough to tell me?" Jorgan's anger was building quickly and he took a deep breath steady his pulse.

"Plausible deniability, Aric." Fynta bent a little so she could see his face. Jorgan knew it wasn't an easy position for her to be in, but he wasn't ready to look her in the eye yet. "My sources are questionable, usually out-and-out illegal, and the evidence was shaky at best. I needed an SIS agent to get me in and Balkar was available."

It made sense, it was probably what Jorgan would have done too, but it still didn't feel right. He should have been involved in this. Unable to come up with a decent argument, Aric sighed. "Have you looked at it yet?"

"It's encrypted, we were discovered before we could break it, so a copy was all I could manage." Fynta stared down at the disc too.

Jorgan scooped it up and walked out to find the protocol droid. It was in the kitchen rearranging the cupboards, he figured the annoying droid did that from time to time as a way of retaliating against Fynta's poor treatment. "Seetwo, I need this run through an encryption program immediately." Jorgan put the disc in the gleaming, outstretched hand.

"Oh, thank you master! I'll have your results before we leave!" The droid tottered off, happy to have been given a task instead of being ignored. Jorgan shook his head and decided to stop by his room on the way back to the medbay. It gave the Cathar time to clear his head and look at things from Fynta's perspective. In the end, he still didn't like being kept in the dark, but understood.

Fynta hadn't moved when Jorgan returned. She was still sitting on the bed in her bra, staring down at the floor. A little more of his anger dissipated. From this angle, the lieutenant didn't look like the formidable Mandalorian who led Havoc Squad, just a battered women hunched under the weight of a tough life. Jorgan cleared his throat to get her attention before speaking. "I've got Seetwo running an encryption program. It should keep him busy for a few hours at least."

A look of relief passed over Fynta's face when she looked past Jorgan to where the droid had settled at one of the terminals. "I should keep a steady stream of encrypted discs if that's all it takes." Somehow Aric knew her relief had nothing to do with the droid, but with the fact that he had come back, she just couldn't say. No more than he would have. They were soldiers; they didn't do feelings.

Grabbing the handheld scanner, Jorgan went back to the table to make sure there wasn't anything he'd missed. "As long as they don't all end like this." Just like that, the moment was gone and they were back to normal banter.

"Can we just call this revenge?" Fynta asked with a grimace as Jorgan pressed his hand into her lower back to force her to sit up straight.

Jorgan smirked, still annoyed, but becoming less so with each passing moment. "Yeah. I think so. Doesn't look like you've managed to break, rupture, or puncture anything else." Laying the scanner back on the counter Jorgan saw the shirt he'd grabbed from his room. "Oh, here." Fynta raised an eyebrow at the proffered garment and Jorgan rattled off a quick explanation as to why he was offering his commanding officer his clothing. "I thought something loose would feel better than trying to squeeze into one of your own."

"That's very thoughtful." Fynta's eyebrows drew together as she tentatively took the black, overly large shirt. "Thank you." For once, she wasn't being inappropriate or snarky, and that was worrying.

Jorgan was about to suggest another exam to determine what was altering Fynta's personality so drastically when her holo started buzzing. It was Jonas Balkar's ID. He snagged it off the counter before Fynta could move. "You get dressed. I'll answer it." Then Jorgan stopped at the door and looked back at her. "With your permission, of course." Fynta nodded, so he took it out into the main room. With a start, Jorgan realized that their relationship had become almost too familiar if he was willing to answer her holo, yet that wasn't stopping him.

"This is Senior SIS Agent Zane, I just got off the hollow with a very angry Imperial diplomat. Apparently, some Republic troopers broke into an Imperial detention center! Where is Lieutenant Fynta Wolfe?"

Jorgan bristled immediately. "She is indisposed at the moment. I am Sergeant Aric Jorgan and I have permission to speak with you on her behalf." Surprisingly, Jorgan barely registered the sting of his demotion this time.

Zane stuck his finger at the Cathar, "Tell her that little stunt she pulled ruined any chance we had of negotiating the Deadeyes safe return."

Fynta limped out to stand next to Jorgan but didn't take the holo from him. "Check your facts Zane. The Imperials already shipped them all off." Jorgan hoped her disheveled appearance didn't translate over the holo. Or the fact that she was clearly wearing clothing that belonged to a male.

"It's _Senior Agent_ Zane, thank you. And storming an Imperial facility, guns blazing? It makes things worse. Your involvement ends now. Clear?" Even through the muted colors Jorgan could see the man's face was reddening.

Fynta lowered her voice, a warning that she was considering hitting or shooting something. "Our involvement ends when the Deadeyes are free."

The man laughed, "Then you can tell your CO to expect a little love note from me. I trust you'll see yourselves off my planet."

The signal cut out and Jorgan looked down at Fynta. "Guns blazing?"

"He was exaggerating. Other than the group of blokes who found us in the computer room, no one else saw us." Fynta winced and rolled her shoulder gently. "I wish I had gone in guns blazing, though. And in full beskar. Next time I will."

"Next time you'll take me with you," Jorgan said, taking Fynta's shoulders gently and steering the lieutenant towards her room.

"Yeah." Fynta swayed a little, the meds that he'd slipped in while she was focused on her shoulder were starting to take effect. "You're probably right."

Jorgan put his arm around Fynta's torso to steady her. By the time they made it to her room, he was practically carrying her. "You should rest now."

Fynta's head rolled onto Jorgan's shoulder as he settled her onto the bed and she took a deep breath. "Thanks, Aric," Fynta whispered. Jorgan sat there with his commanding officer's head rested on his shoulder until he heard her breathing level out. Fynta was going to be furious when she woke up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> beskar'gam [BES-kar-GAM] armor
> 
> Fierfek [FIRE-fek] a Huttese slang word that meant "hex" or "curse," but was commonly accepted to mean "poison" by non-Huttese-speaking races. Later adopted as an expletive.
> 
> Shab: excrement (used as a curse)
> 
> beskar [BESK-gar] Mandalorian iron


	12. Too Much Fun

 

**137 days since Ord Mantell**   
**The Thunderclap**   
**Tepasi**

"Honestly, sir. You are a more irksome patient than Jorgan," Dorne scolded as she followed Fynta through the ship. One more kolto bath and maybe Dorne would stop fretting over her. "You're supposed to be resting." Eventually the woman threw her hands up and wandered off, conceding for only a short time.

Fynta had been resting for the last three days and was going stir crazy. No matter how hard she tried, Fynta couldn't find it within herself to be irritated at Jorgan for drugging her. Although she had teased him mercilessly about being alone with her unconscious body, at least, until Fynta realized that Dorne was on the ship.

Elara was a good woman who apparently didn't know how to leave work at work, not that any of them did. According to Jorgan, she'd arrived shortly after Fynta had dozed off, saying that she'd been monitoring their heart rates and that Fynta's had become erratic. So, Dorne sought out her unwilling patient and took over the treatment.

Fynta had agreed to stay aboard the ship and take her kolto baths while both sergeants watched her carefully to make sure their wayward CO stayed in for the allotted hour. It was amusing, touching, and annoying all at once. Jorgan had been her shadow when Dorne wasn't around, saying that he was keeping an eye on her, but Fynta was starting the think the grumpy shabuir liked her company. It was the last day of leave and no one had left the blasted ship. Tomorrow, Garza had them bound for Alderaan, so Fynta developed an exit strategy.

After the mandatory dip in the tank, Fynta felt relieved that it was finally over with. "You know," she said by way of conversation, testing the waters to see if Jorgan had forgiven her for not telling him about her self-appointed side mission. The Cathar glanced up from his datapad, then furrowed his brows as he watched her dry her hair. "You don't make a half bad medic," Fynta continued. When she was finished with the towel, Fynta flipped her hair up and over, slinging little droplets all over Jorgan's clothes. She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at his expression.

Jorgan scowled at the dark patches on his shirt. "I considered it when I first joined."

Fynta leaned her hip against the counter and crossed her arms, "What changed your mind?"

"I scored higher than average on my rifle qualifications and was recruited to the Deadeyes." Jorgan was still looking down his shirt, wiping his hands down it as if he could brush the water away.

Fynta studied Jorgan for a moment. The more time they spent together, the more she realized he wasn't just a grumpy career junky, but that hidden deep inside, where it couldn't be touched or hurt, there was a heart. After all, Jorgan had been ready to kill Jonas Balkar when he thought the SIS agent was responsible for her embarrassing state of injury.

There was a connection between herself and the Cathar. Somehow they understood one another, even though they had nothing in common. While Fynta had floated in the tank, it was usually Jorgan who sat in there to keep her company. He'd read or work on reports, all in complete silence, so she'd had plenty of time to study him and not a lot else to do. Aric was quite attractive. He had a strong jaw, high cheekbones, light blue eyes that glowed when he was ready for a fight, and an extremely appealing body.

Jorgan gave a startled jump and cut his eyes at her; he did that a lot lately. "What?"

Fynta offered a coy smile, guessing that her prolonged stare had given her away. "I was just trying to picture you as a doctor." The Cathar didn't look like he bought her explanation and Fynta laughed. She wasn't ashamed of her attraction, it was only natural. But Jorgan had unbending views on that sort of thing.

"And?" He asked again.

"I'm not sure you've got the bedside manner. I think sniper was a good career choice," Fynta grinned playfully.

"You're probably right." Jorgan leaned a hip against the counter and crossed his arms to match her stance. "Besides, I doubt I would have been skilled enough to make it into Havoc Squad."

"And you wouldn't have met me, then where would you be?"

"My life would be a lot less interesting without a doubt," Jorgan managed with a tight lipped smile.

"Well, leave ends tomorrow and I'm sure Alderaan has plenty of interesting things for us to do." Fynta pushed off the counter and walked passed Jorgan to check on Dorne. She found the woman in the conference room pouring over some notes on something that was probably too complex for Fynta to puzzle out.

Jorgan stopped behind her to look over Fynta's head. "What do you suppose she's working on now?" He was standing close enough that she could _feel_ the rumbling in Jorgan's chest as he spoke. It sent a shiver through her and Fynta was fairly certain that he laughed quietly. The tables had finally turned, Jorgan was messing with her, and Fynta was letting him.

"Something over both our heads," Fynta responded, bumping into Jorgan as she backed up, then turning to find him blocking the door with an amused smirk. For a few seconds, she didn't think the Cathar would move. "You up for some hand to hand?" Fynta offered with an innocent grin.

Jorgan finally turned to the side to let her pass, though not before rolling his eyes. "How about we go out and actually have drinks. You know, like we are supposed to do on leave."

"Okay, deal." Fynta leaned back into the conference room, "You coming, Dorne?" It was the least she could do for being such an _irksome patient_. Meanwhile, Jorgan grabbed his fatigue pullover, which Fynta thought was a shame because a girl could get used to looking at a body like that. Especially the way those pants fit him.

Jorgan looked down at her and narrowed his eyes. "Not that one you met Balkar at."

Fynta laughed. "Agreed. Although I should probably check in with him and make sure he survived." Dorne joined them, finally shutting off the datapad, as Fynta pulled on her jacket too, might as well fit in with her squad this time.

**Tepasi Commercial District**

Havoc squad was headed towards a small casino that Fynta swore was a classy place, at least according to the reviews. Jorgan rode quietly in the taxi along with Dorne and grit his teeth while Fynta chatted with Balkar. "It's good to hear from you, gorgeous," the SIS agent said. "I was afraid after how sour our date ended I wouldn't get a call back."

"As far as first dates go, it was one for the books for sure," Fynta answered with a laugh. "Your boss certainly wasn't happy."

Balkar's holo image ran his fingers through his hair, "Yeah, he _commandeered_ my comm while I was medicated. Sorry about that."

"Hope you didn't get in too much trouble. It would have been . . . unpleasant if I'd tried to get in myself," Fynta said and Jorgan had to repress a snarl at the implication.

Balkar flashed a roughish smile and Jorgan rolled his eyes. "I'll be fine. Might not be able to help out with anything else for a while though. Hey, maybe next time you're in town we can go on an actual date." The man paused for effect. "Then you can show me that move you did." Balkar winked and cut the transmission.

Fynta shook her head as she placed the small device in one of the pockets on her sleeve. "Well, at least I didn't get him killed or fired. Or both."

Jorgan resisted the urge to disagree about that being a good thing. "So, what move was he talking about?"

Fynta grinned at him, "Want me to show you?" Jorgan opened his mouth, but couldn't put any words together. Her offer being enough to leave him speechless.

The robotic cab driver rescued him when it rolled down the dividing window and announced that they had arrived. Jorgan paid and scrambled out behind the women, grateful for the chance to clear his head. It wasn't so much that he was unaccustomed to her flirting by now, it was that he was attracted to her in turn. Jorgan found Fynta appealing in a way he'd never found any other female of any other species. The Cathar had a strict code of conduct that he was considering violating and that troubled him deeply.

Dorne was watching Jorgan intently when he straightened up outside. She was another woman who paid exceptional attention to detail. A scientist, and whereas Fynta looked at him as a conquest, Dorne's expression was always studied. Jorgan wasn't sure which was worse. _Blast these women_ , he grumbled inwardly. Havoc Squad needed another male.

"I think a few drinks with chums is exactly what we need," Fynta said, positioning herself in the middle and slapping each soldier on the back as she guided them inside. "You two find us a table or a game or something, drinks are on me."

The casino was loud, but tastefully decorated. The dancers looked well fed and clean, plus the floor wasn't sticky. There was a light show in progress, varying hues of colored circles danced in rhythm with the music and spotlighted the crowd at random intervals. All in all it wasn't a bad place.

"The lieutenant—" Dorne started, watching the retreating back of their CO. "She's not what I've come to expect from Republic commanding officers. Even if they are more lax than the ones in the Imperial military." Turning back to Jorgan, Dorne tilted her head to the side. "Are most officers like her?"

"No. Most of them are like me," Jorgan answered without hesitation.

"I see." Dorne didn't say anymore, but it wasn't needed. Jorgan had been a tough commander, the guy who scowled at people even while congratulating them on a job well done. He didn't tolerate foolishness and kept himself apart from the enlisted men in an attempt to set a good example. In a word, his men trusted him with their lives because they knew Jorgan wouldn't allow them to fail. Meaning they had never been his friends; they were his children.

That realization shook the Cathar.

Dorne brought Jorgan back to the present with a gentle tug on his sleeve. She pointed out a table next to one of the casino games where they rolled a ball in a spinning wheel and bet on which color it would land on. He was still stuck on Dorne's question as he nodded and followed her over. What made Fynta Wolfe so magnetic? Jorgan was still lost in his own thoughts when Dorne stood, signaling Fynta's approach. The lieutenant had three mugs filled with amber liquid in one hand filled and a tray holding three colorful, mixed drinks balanced on the other.

"I couldn't remember what you both liked to drink, so thought I'd start with these options and we could work from there." Fynta held the tray out to Jorgan and plopped the mugs down on the table. "Drink up, guys. Tomorrow it's back to work."

A Togruta waitress in a tight, flashing bodysuit laid a tray of food on the table for them. It looked like Fynta had bought half the damn menu. The woman never seemed to run short on credits and Jorgan pondered whether he was brave enough to ask where they all came from. He watched Fynta lifted one of the shot glasses with green alcohol, "Haili cetare! Fill your boots!" Then tipped the glass back and pulled a face, "Wow, not getting another one of those."

Dorne started laughing. Even Jorgan managed a low chuckle.

**The Thunderclap**

Elara Dorne had never had a hangover before. Other than a polite sip here or there at family functions she really wasn't prone to drinking alcohol at all. Fynta had changed that the night before and today, Elara wished the woman hadn't. Apparently she had little tolerance for alcohol and the lieutenant had been exceptionally liberal with her credits. It had been an enjoyable evening though, Elara had even won at one of the small jackpot machines.

Swinging her legs off her makeshift bed, Elara stumbled to the counter for a couple of pain reliever tablets. She thought it might be a good idea to offer a couple to Sergeant Jorgan too. Although Cathar had fast metabolisms, he had gotten into a drinking game with Fynta and almost won. Somehow Elara doubted the lieutenant would have suffered any ill effects because that would prove she had some form of weakness. With an amused smile, Elara pocketed the bottle and made her way to the small kitchen where Jorgan and Fynta were already seated.

Elara took the fact that Jorgan was slouched over his bowl as a sign that she'd been right about the tablets and set the bottle on the table in front of him. To her surprise, it was Fynta who snatched them up. "Bless you, Dorne."

So the great Fynta Wolfe was human after all. Elara smiled as she addressed her comrades. "Are you both feeling as poorly as I am?"

Jorgan grunted in response.

Wolfe shoved two tabs into the Cathar's hand and slid her glass of water to him. "It was fun, but we probably shouldn't do that again within this standard cycle."

"You know what makes it worse? The fact that I didn't even beat you." Jorgan furrowed his brow bones as he tilted his head back to swallow the tabs, then looked back at the woman across from him. "Did I?"

Fynta burst into a fit of laughter, making them all wince. Elara answered for her, "Afraid not, sir. She had you by half a glass."

"Great," the Cathar mumbled and went back to pushing his food around while the lieutenant nursed a mug of caf.

"I don't remember coming in last night." Elara had just realized that she didn't remember much after the drinking game. Only that Jorgan owed Fynta a large sum of credits. "Did you both sleep well?"

Jorgan went rigid, his eyes locked on the table, while Fynta simply grinned at him. "I slept great," Fynta answered without looking taking her eyes off the Cathar. Whereas Jorgan remained fixed on the spot and mute. Whatever had happened after they came in last night, Elara assumed it wasn't any of her business.

"When is our briefing with Garza?" Elara asked. Normally she would know these things, but her head with still clouded.

"About thirty minutes. Make sure you both get food in you and no locking your knees while on the holo." Fynta winked at both of them. "I'm sure Garza already knows we're in orbit over Alderaan. Shabbing woman always seems to know where we're parked." Alderaan was only a few hours from Tepasi, but Elara didn't recall making the jump to hyperspace either.

"We need to start sweeping for bugs every time we land," Jorgan muttered again. "Or maybe outfit Seetwo to do it for us."

Fynta's face lit up. "Maybe Seetwo is bugged. Then we can launch him out the airlock without feeling guilty."

Jorgan snorted, "You'd feel guilty?"

Fynta responded with a shrug, then changed the subject. "Dorne, I meant to ask, do you always monitor our heart rates?"

Elara nodded. "I am the chief medical officer on the ship, after all. I keep my datapad turned on at all times and it is linked to the heart rate monitors in your equipment. I don't mean to pry into personal business, but your health is my job."

"Huh. I had no idea you could do that." It was all Fynta said and Elara wasn't sure what her expression meant.

"For example, after you were wounded a few days ago I noticed that your heart rate was elevated for a frighteningly long time. However, you were on a date, so. . . ." Elara left the rest unsaid.

Jorgan seemed to find his breakfast exceptionally interesting again. He behaved strangely whenever Jonas Balkar was brought up. Elara was beginning to wonder if there was something between the lieutenant and sergeant, though that seemed out of character for the stoic Cathar. According to his file, at least.

"It's the reason it took me so long to get back to the ship," Elara continued. "When Sergeant Jorgan's became elevated shortly after, I decided I should check in."

"Now that's dedication." Fynta smiled, stood, and patted Elara's shoulder, "You're a good soldier, Dorne, and an even better medic."

Elara moved out of the way so the other woman could get to the sink. "Sir, not to pry, but why did you get into a fight?" She'd hope Fynta would be forthcoming with the information on her own, but now Elara's curiosity was getting the better of her.

"It was my fault," Jorgan answered. "She was looking into some intel on my previous squad, they've gone missing, and things didn't go as planned. Balkar was helping her."

"I see," Elara replied, though she knew they were leaving something out. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Sort of." Fynta turned the mug upside down to dry. "We found encrypted coordinates to an Imperial prison camp. Seetwo is working on them now." She paused, leaning next to Elara. "This was off the books, Dorne. We've already got one angry SIS agent after us and I'm just hoping I didn't cost Jonas his job. It's not a pleasant thing when a spy gets fired."

Elara comprehended the situation perfectly now. It had been an unapproved mission and things had gone badly. "I understand, sir. However, I would be remiss if I didn't insist on completing a follow up exam before we a combat zone."

"Really, Dorne, I'm fine. It's all taken car—"

"I don't know, sir. You were pretty banged up. Probably a good idea," Jorgan interrupted.

Fynta shot him a glare that vowed revenge, but gave in. "Alright. Garza in fifteen. Finish eating and meet me at the holo. Then I'll report for the exam."

"Very good, sir," Elara smiled. Jorgan waited until Fynta left the room, then flashed a sharp-toothed grin. It was the first one Elara seen and it made her feel completely at home.

**Alderaan  
House Organa Estates**

"Two bloody hours to get clearance to land," Dorne marveled as Havoc squad traversed the massive Organa Compound. It was a rare thing to hear the medic flustered, but inefficiency was a sure fire way of doing it. With the entire planet under the threat of open hostilities, the spaceport authorities had been exceptionally thorough in checking Havoc's credentials. During which time Fynta had brushed up on the mission specs. A man from House Organa's rival, House Thul, had been captured while infiltrating the main complex. Once apprehended, he'd claimed to know the whereabouts of the old Havoc mechanic, Gearbox.

Gearbox had been the first member of Havoc Squad Fynta had met. He'd been welcoming and kind and, next to Fuse, she'd immediately liked him the most. His betrayal still stung, even though Fynta had known him less than twenty-four hours. Clearing her mind, she focused on her surroundings.

Alderaan was on the back end of winter and the landscape was beautiful. Snow still clung to the shaded areas and the wind smelled crisp. The buildings and streets were clean, the people milling around were pleasant looking and smartly dressed. It would be a great place to take a vacation were it not for the whole _civil war_ thing. Fynta heard Jorgan take a deep breath, savoring the clean air. Bar none, this was the nicest planet they'd been posted on to date.

"House Organa," Jorgan admired, taking in the massive compound of courtyards and connected buildings. "They're the largest supporter of the Republic on Alderaan. Let's hope we can return the favor." The Cathar was a fan of anyone who was openly patriotic towards the Republic. Unless they were SIS, of course.

"This is a beautiful place." Dorne was staring off towards the snowcapped mountains in wistful admiration. "I suppose worth the wait."

Inside was just as massive and beautiful, with golden walls and crimson carpets. The price of the wall hangings alone could probably feed the entire Republic army for a few months. These people could trace their lineage back generations, something few Mandalorians could do. Fynta's own heritage was a clouded hodge-podge of people who went through great lengths to remain invisible.

Jorgan let out a low whistle, hands on hips, echoing her own thoughts. "You can really feel the history and tradition in a place like this." Fynta could see the desire in his eyes, he wanted to read every plaque and learn every story. She wondered if Jorgan knew who his birth parents were, maybe she'd ask next time they found themselves sitting on the bridge in hyperspace. Of the three of them, Dorne probably understood more about this lifestyle. The Dorne's were a well-respected family name in the Empire, though Fynta got the impression it wasn't flouted.

"We'll try to get you back here soon so you can explore," Fynta promised Jorgan with a pat on the shoulder, noticing that he didn't tense the way he used to at her touch. "Come on, I think our contact is just over there." She led them around a room with vaulted ceilings and impressive chandeliers to where an extremely large man stood guard in front of an isolated cell. The closer Fynta got, the larger the man seemed. He was probably twice the width of Jorgan and a full head taller, and Jorgan wasn't a small guy.

The soldier held out his hand at their approach, a hand that could have covered Fynta's entire face. "Whoa, hold up a minute, friend. The detention area is restricted." His voice was courteous, even friendly, and somehow that didn't seem to match his physical appearance no matter how deep it was. "I'm going to need to see some identification before you come in here."

Fynta had to remind herself not to stare at mass of man in front of her. "Of course." She tapped in the access code Garza had given her and handed the datapad to the guard. "Here you go."

The man accepted it with a polite nod. "Alright, let's have a look here." It took him only a few seconds to read the information and his jaw went slack for a moment, not quite falling open. "Oh! Sorry, sir! I didn't recognize you. We were expecting . . ." The captain paused and glanced up at Fynta. She raised an eyebrow raise and fought back a smile, this wasn't the first time her gender had confused the contact. "Well, your general told us someone was coming, but didn't exactly say who." It was a good recovery, he earned points for that.

The man saluted. "I'm Captain Cormac. You'll be wanting to talk to our esteemed guest from House Thul, won't you? He's a tough one. We worked him over a dozen times and he still won't talk."

Captain Cormac had an immensely square jaw, shaved head, and black eyebrows. His skin was as tan as her own, maybe a little darker, but what caught Fynta's attention were the thin lines at the corners of his chestnut eyes that told of a man who liked to laugh. She would love to know what Cormac did when he wasn't guarding _esteemed guests_ , because the man was built for battle. Those massive pauldrons that connected the chain webbing across his chest plate had to weigh at least four kilos on their own. Fynta was fascinated.

"I thought he mentioned a man called, Gearbox," Jorgan interjected, bringing her out of her astonished silence. The big man nodded to him. "Well, yeah, besides that. He mentioned the Gearbox fellow as soon as we brought him in. The prisoner's name is Marcus Thul." Cormac smiled proudly, "Our boys caught Marcus here sneaking into the castle with a dozen Imperial commandos, set on cutting the head of House Organa into thranta bait."

That was a bold move, even for the Imperials. "Was anyone in House Organa harmed?"

Cormac sighed, "Nobody in the royal family was hurt, but a bunch of guards went down in the fighting." Cormac's cheerful disposition slipped for a second as his brows pulled together. "It was bad, Lieutenant. Really bad." They all knew how that felt, and an instinctive moment of respectful silence hung over them in honor of his fallen comrades. Captain Cormac took a steadying breath and pushed on, "Anyway, as soon as we got the shock-cuffs on him, Marcus started in on the Gearbox stuff. You know, _Critical Intelligence. Republic Special Forces will want to know_. That sort of thing. So that's when we called your people."

Fynta nodded, "I'd should speak with the prisoner at once."

"Absolutely, sir." Cormac input the code to drop the outer force shield. "Marcus is in security cell five. I've set the system to grant you access. Whenever you're ready, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, Captain." Fynta liked him. So far, Captain Cormac was loads more helpful than Colonel Gaff had been.

Cell five was directly behind the entrance and the barrier dropped at Fynta's approached. Turning to her squad, Fynta nodded behind them. "Dorne, stay out here and make sure we aren't disturbed, Jorgan, you're with me." Sparing a glance at him over her shoulder, Fynta grinned. "Try to look scary."

Jorgan snorted in protest, but it did the trick. Marcus Thul's eyes widened to the size of saucers when he saw the heavily armored Cathar walk into his prison cell. The Thul nobleman looked to be in his mid-forties with streaks of grey starting to show through his brown hair and pointed beard. The nice robes of tans, blues, and reds were ripped and the man was covered in bruises. Cormac hadn't been kidding when he said they'd worked Thul over. A bruise for each fallen brother.

Over all, the cell was roomy and well furnished. If someone had tried to sneak onto the Thunderclap for Fynta's head and had killed even one member of her crew instead, she would have shoved him in a trunk for safekeeping; if she managed to bypass the airlock.

Marcus regained his composure and his eyes settled on the rank insignia on Fynta's left breast. "Ah, a visitor," he said, though she heard a little bit of a quiver in his otherwise aristocratic voice. "Welcome. I am Marcus Andarius Thul." He eyed them both warily. "Your equipment is not of House Organa. Whom do you represent?"

It was too much to hope for an idiot of a nobleman she supposed. Fynta crossed her arms, "Instead of my friends, let's talk about yours. Like Gearbox."

Marcus was still studying them. "Soldiers, clearly. Not of House Organa, but someone that House Organa allows to speak with their prisoners. Someone from the Republic." Marcus looked pleased with his own deductive skills and sat on the edge a bed that looked more comfortable than the ones Havoc squad slept on. "Ask any questions you wish. The answers will only come when you've done what I require." Fynta resisted the urge to smack him and actually had to put a hand out to stop Jorgan's advance. That put a little fear into the man, at least, and he quickly rethought his original deal. "I can tell you all about Gearbox, the Empire, and their activities," Marcus assured them. "But I want protection for my wife and daughter."

"Protection from what, exactly?"

Marcus sprang to his feet and began pacing the room. "My wife and daughter. They still live among my house!" He jabbed a finger angrily at nothing in particular, "Among the Imperials! If I tell you what I know, they will suffer for that betrayal. I will not allow it!" The man regained his composure with a sigh. "So until they are safe. I can tell you nothing."

Fynta tapped her chin in thought. Beating the information out of the guy hadn't worked. Cormac might appear to be a lovable guy, but she had no doubt he could give a thorough interrogation. She didn't have any access to SIS kit here either. Her hands were tied. _Shab._ Fynta couldn't let the Thul know it though. "Tell you what. You lead me to Gearbox and I'll get your wife and daughter out."

Marcus shook his head, "If I tell you where Gearbox is now, you could just deal with him and leave. Gaining me nothing. Perhaps a compromise: I tell you part of what I know, to prove the veracity of my claims. If you find my intelligence is accurate, you help my family. After which, I will tell you exactly where to locate Gearbox."

Fynta narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice. "Let's hear this intel of yours." If it turned out to be a ruse, she could always shoot him later.

Fynta listened carefully while Jorgan retrieved the coordinates to a missile battery that Thul claimed Gearbox had built for the Thul house. When Dorne lowered the shield to let her and Jorgan out, Marcus made no attempt to escape or demands for his own life. He was a man who wanted to remove his family from a bad situation. Then again, he'd been captured while sneaking into House Organa to assassinate their leader. So the man was no saint. It was one of those complicated situations with no right answers.

Captain Cormac was waiting, hands on hips and a smile on his face. He was handsome when he smiled and Fynta wasn't the only one who noticed. Dorne looked enchanted from the start. Fynta saw it in the way the medic rocked her hip slightly to one side instead of her normally perfect posture. "I gotta say, Lieutenant, you're something else. Until you showed up, Marcus had barely sprouted twenty words at us that weren't inappropriate. I don't know about this business with his wife and daughter though. The boys upstairs might not approve of cutting deals with the guy."

Fynta understood where the captain was coming from. If things went wrong, it was Cormac's career on the line. "They may not, but saving his family is the only way to get that intel and my objective is more important." Fynta resisted the urge to glance at Jorgan, but she knew the stakes this time. Meaning maybe she could save the captain from a similar fate.

Cormac lowered his voice and bent a little closer to her, "Well then, it's probably best if we don't call too much attention to ourselves." Fynta decided right then that she liked the Alderaanian Captain. He stood straight again and nodded over his shoulder, "What do you make of his story? All this missile launcher business, you think he's telling the truth?"

"The only way to know for sure is to look into it. My gut says it would be foolish not to investigate."

"I suppose so, sir." Cormac shook his head, "Never thought I'd say this about a Thul, but I think I actually believe the guy." Then the captain offered a friendly hand instead of a salute and Fynta accepted happily. Cormac had just the right grip, not crushing, but not soft enough to make her feel fragile. "Good luck out there, friend. Who knows, maybe you'll find some clues about this Gearbox guy. I'll keep an eye on Marcus while you're gone."

Fynta chewed on the inside of her cheek, dark blue eyes taking in the room before centering on Cormac again. "Actually, I have a request, Captain."

"If I can, I'll make it happen," he answered with an excited gleam in his eye.

"You've got some fancy tech in this part of the building. I wonder if one of my team could commandeer one of these terminals to provide a consistent flow of information for us in the field."

Cormac looked around at the computer filled room. "I don't see why not. Anything to help out."

"Excellent. Thank you very much. We'll grab our gear and get started."

Fynta made her way out with Dorne and Jorgan flanking her like a shabbing honor guard. They both tensed when a man with light brown hair and expensive taste in fabrics approached and inclined his head. "Greetings, Lieutenant. I am Lial Organa, if you would like, I can show you to one of our guest houses so that your team can refresh for dinner." No one had mentioned dinner before now, and as tempting as the offer was, Fynta was going to have to decline. "I appreciate it, Lial, but my team and I need to get to work immediately."

"It is custom for the House to host a dinner in the guest's honor," Lial said. He had a soft voice, almost a whisper. "However, we understand your haste. I can offer you each accommodations instead."

Fynta waved her hand, "Not necessary, sir. We can share the same room, it's more efficient."

A look of confusion passed briefly across Lial's face, having probably never shared anything in his life. However, he nodded without question. "If you would follow me, please."

**House Organa  
Guest Quarters**

The room the Organas lent Havoc was the nicest Jorgan had seen in a long time. The floors were covered in the same deep red carpet as the rest of the palace, the walls were gold, and there was a transparent door that opened up onto a balcony over a snowy courtyard. Dorne was right, Alderaan was a beautiful place.

Fynta had rearranged the room as soon as the Organa man shut the door, pushing the bed up against the wall and spreading the remaining furniture around to accommodate their gear. Jorgan was sitting on the cushioned bench attached to one of the windows, checking their sources for any aerial recon of the coordinates the prisoner had given them. He shook his head when Fynta looked up at him expectantly. "Nothing. Looks like we are doing this the hard way," Jorgan replied. The Cathar wasn't overly disappointed; he wouldn't mind seeing more of this planet.

Fynta sighed, "I suppose two easy ops in a row was just too much to ask for."

"Like you said, Lieutenant. Whether or not the target wishes to be found makes all the difference, and Gearbox most certainly does not wish to be found," Dorne added from where she was seated on the bed, legs crossed under her.

"Alright. Dorne, you're the smartest person here, making you are our technical specialist. So, I need you here to interpret the data we send back. Also to be our liaison with Captain Cormac." Fynta leaned back against the desk and slapped the palm of her hand on the terminal next to her hip. "Can we make this computer terminal secure?"

"I believe so." Dorne unfolded from the bed and Fynta stepped aside to allow the medic access. After a little bit of digging into the systemware the medic nodded. "Yes sir, I can make that work. If I can tap into the terminals downstairs, we can increase our efficiency by twenty-two percent." Fynta's eyebrows at the other woman. Dorne was a woman of clean numbers. Jorgan admired her for it.

Fynta had was wearing serious expression when she looked back at Jorgan. "That leaves recon to us. We'll move out an hour after sunset." She checked the chrono on her wrist plate, then looked around the room. "What time does the sun set here anyway?"

"In two hours and twenty-seven minutes," Dorne replied, not looking up from where she'd positioned herself at the terminal.

"Good. Let's get this op set up, I'd rather not have to improvise this time."

Dorne left to familiarize herself with the terminal supplied by the captain, while Fynta and Jorgan put their heads together over the available maps. The terrain was going to be a pain to navigate and Fynta was concerned about signal strength up in the higher elevations. Eventually, the lieutenant stood, arching her back to stretch, then went out onto the balcony to lean against the rail.

Jorgan checked his gear, including the new remote he was itching to try. It was supposed to be more responsive than the last one, which Fynta had smashed into the side of the hanger on Tepasi. For all her piloting skills, she was surprisingly inept at flying by controller. After that, Jorgan reconfigured his helmet to make sure all systems were running and checked the seals on his armor, figuring the temperature would to drop quickly once the sun set. Once his task was complete, Jorgan decided to join Fynta out on the balcony.

"You okay, boss?" Fynta was still leaned against the railing, staring at nothing. Jorgan rested next to her and together they gazing staring out over the horizon in silence as the sun sank lower in the sky.

"This place reminds me of home," Fynta said after a while. Jorgan didn't see it, everything he had read about Mandalore was that it was a wild landscape with squat buildings. Far from the grandeur displayed on Alderaan. Fynta smiled over her shoulder, "Well, not exactly. But the winter _smells_ the same."

"You miss it?" Jorgan asked, glancing over to see the peaceful smile vanish from Fynta's face in the last vestiges of sunlight.

Fynta straightened up and pushed her fists into her back to stretch again. "Sometimes." She paused and Jorgan waited, he knew there was something else bothering her. "I was thinking about Cormac's lost men when I was ambushed by nostalgia," Fynta finally admitted.

Jorgan had thought about them too, but that was a path he wasn't prepared to go down, neither should she. "It won't do you any good to dwell on those men. There's nothing you could've done, and if you start asking yourself what if, then you've already lost part of the war. Stay focused on the objective."

Fynta sighed, "I know you're right." Turning towards Jorgan, she leaned back against the handrail and patted his cheek, her ungloved hand felt exceptionally warm in that brief moment on contact. "At least you'll get a chance to play with your new toy." Fynta was smiling again and Jorgan could see a bit of spark coming back.

"I never thanked you for that, sir. I'm looking forward to testing it."

"It was the least I could do." Fynta chuckled, "It was a spectacular sight though."

The little remote had erupted into flames much larger than expected and tumbled to the floor and landed on a T6 model astromech. The droid had sputtered indignantly and spun its dome to fling the burning metal off, plastering slag against the walls. The T6 continued to beep and chirp at them angrily before extinguishing the flames and cleaning it up.

"Yeah," Jorgan smiled at the memory. "It was."

"Do we need to go over the op or are you good with standard recon procedure?" Fynta glanced over her shoulder at the picturesque scenery before crossing her arms and returning her attention to Jorgan. She wasn't the kind of commander to stand on ceremony and sometimes the Cathar worried that he was becoming too accustomed to it. As if he might forget to salute the next time he met a higher ranking officer.

"Thought it might be a good idea to take some explosives with us. You know, take care of the problem if it exists." Jorgan pulled his attention back to Fynta when she didn't answer. The damn woman had a big grin plastered across her face; he'd said the magic word.

"I'm rubbing off on you, admit it," Fynta teased, elbowing him playfully.

"Maybe a little," Jorgan conceded with a slight smile that he kept turned away from the lieutenant.

"I do love a good explosion. Make sure we've got enough. I need to check my gear." Fynta spared one last look at the horizon, then went back inside. Jorgan stayed out a little longer, wishing all their targets could be in places like this. A warm bed, nice view, pleasant people. The only problem being that if Havoc Squad was called in, then it was because the place was headed towards not staying beautiful for long.

Jorgan finally decided to head back inside when he heard Dorne's voice. "House Organa has been most accommodating, sir. No one even asked why we needed these items. They just handed them to me," the Havoc medic was explaining.

Fynta watched with her hands on her hips while Dorne set up a completely new terminal system. "Have you swept them for bugs?"

"I did, sir. They are clean." Dorne plugged in the last of the cables and turned the screen on, then stood back admiring her handy work. "I think they are just as eager to have this situation under control as we are."

"So what is this, again?" Fynta asked, squatting down to examine the small terminal.

Dorne lit up at the chance to educate. "This terminal is completely secure, sir. I'll plug it into the one provided by Balic and—"

Fynta glanced up, "Balic?"

Dorne's cheeks colored. "Apologies. Captain Cormac." Fynta shot Jorgan a mischievous grin while Elara continued, "Once plugged in, that terminal will be completely under my control and I will have access to everything in their database. Once I've completed downloading the new program I've written, of course." Jorgan gaped at her. When had Dorne had the time to write a new program?

"It's genius, Elara." Fynta pushed to her feet, still staring at the terminal. "How far does this expand our reach now?"

Dorne straightened her back even more, bolstered by praise from a superior officer. "I believe this will more than double our effective range, sir."

"Good work." Fynta glanced past Jorgan out the window, "Dorne, you're going to be our eyes, I want you watching the surroundings while we check out the Thul man's claims. I don't like having to play nice with the enemy to get information, so keep an open mind and bring me anything you think might be useful." Fynta had shifted into Lieutenant Wolfe, commanding officer of Havoc Squad. Jorgan considered the fact that he had not really seen her in charge of an op yet. On Ord Mantell she was following his or Tavus' orders, Coruscant had them reporting to Garza constantly, and on Nar Shaddaa Agent Balkar ran the show. Everything was routed through the mayor on Tatooine. Even Fuse had had a say in where Havoc went and what they did. But here Fynta was in charge, with no one else to report to. It was an interesting transformation.

Fynta winked. "See what _Balic_ can do to help too." Sergeant Dorne blushed through a stern nod.

Jorgan sat back on the bench in the window. "What about me, sir?" He resisted the urge to use her rank. Calling Fynta lieutenant never failed to make her cringe. Jorgan assumed it was because she was still trying to protect him. While it still burned that he had been left to hang for the defection, Jorgan was almost over it. Havoc Squad life suited him just fine.

"You're job—" Fynta turned full on to face him, hands on her hips again, "—is to keep me alive."

Jorgan leaned around the lieutenant to look at Dorne, "Want to trade?"

Fynta laughed and Dorne looked bewildered for the briefest moment. Jorgan could see the moment she caught on to the joke and the young woman shook her head vehemently. "No, sir. I believe you are best qualified for that task."

Fynta threw her head back in laughter, "All right you two mir'shebs, let's get on with the mission."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> shabuir [SHAH-boo-EER] jerk
> 
> Haili cetare! [HI-lee set-AHR-ay] Tuck in! Enjoy! Lit. *Fill your boots.*
> 
> shab - excrement (used as a curse)
> 
> mir'sheb [MEER-sheb] smartass


	13. The Good Captain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is about the where my headcanon took over because Balic Cormac was too good to leave behind on Alderaan. I hope you all enjoy him as much as I do because he isn't going away.

  **Alsakan Lowlands**

The planet's moon was just rising in the sky as Jorgan and Fynta crept around in the hills near the coordinates Marcus Thul had given them. The trees swayed in the evening breeze, shaking snow from their limbs to splatter noisily on the ground and some animal was crooning a klick or so away, then another would answer from the opposite direction. Apart from that, the forest was silent.

The two soldiers paused for a moment to reorient themselves when Jorgan pointed out the banner of one of the lower houses. "Even the smaller houses have mansions. Must be nice."

Fynta snorted, "What would you do with a house like that?" The Cathar lived out of a duffle like her. Their only real home now was the Thunderclap.

Jorgan's shrug was just visible through Fynta's night vision. "Maybe have a big family."

For reasons Fynta didn't want to explore, Jorgan's answer shook her. She'd never pictured him as a family man, just a soldier. A good soldier. Dorne cut in as they started moving again, rescuing Fynta from having to respond. "Lieutenant, you've arrived at the coordinates. I suggest deploying the remote now."

Jorgan stopped and pulled the small device out of one of the larger pouches on his belt and tossed it into the air, the silent motors clicking on immediately. "Alright, let's see what this baby can do." He watched the datapad while Fynta watched the readout on her HUD. After turning the last one into a flaming pile of slag, they'd both agreed that she wasn't allowed to pilot the little aerial camera anymore.

"It looks a little grainy, anything we can do about that, Dorne?"

"One moment." Fynta could hear furious tapping on the other end, then the rough imagine snapped into crystal clarity. "There. That should do it," the woman replied.

"Dorne, you're a genius."

"Thank you, sir. I'm looking at a larger screen so I have more detail on this end. I'll let you know if we spot anything out of the ordinary." _We_. Dorne must be letting Cormac sit in. "Sir, comm chatter indicates that the guards are quite displeased with their post and therefore I must urge extreme caution."

Well, at least they knew there were guards up ahead. "Will do, Dorne."

Jorgan and Fynta continued up the hill towards their target where Fynta could just make out the beginnings of artificial light at the top. "Well. There is definitely something down there. Jorgan, can you get us a better look?" From here, it looked like a temporary settlement of some kind, completely industrial. There was the unmistakable shadow of two large cannon barrels to consider as well.

Jorgan's helmet tipped in a nod as he propped up on his elbow from their prone position while Fynta's looked down the sight of her rifle. "There," Fynta said, pointing towards the source of the movement that caught her eye. "Check out that building to the left of the guard taking a leak."

Jorgan steered the small camera in the new direction. "Sir, that's an Imperial insignia," Dorne cut in over the comm. "None of the other buildings appear to be marked with it. If we had to choose, I'd say that is our best bet."

"Lucky for us the guard is preoccupied. We can take him out and slip in," Jorgan rumbled, his voice always sounding deeper when they were about to jump into action.

Fynta wasn't ready to tip her hand yet. Gearbox was a smart man, if guards started turning up dead or missing, then he might put it together before Havoc was ready. She couldn't afford to lose him. "Dorne, can you see where they are getting their power from?"

"Ah," Jorgan said. "I think I get what you're thinking. Out in the middle of nowhere they would need generators."

Fynta nodded in his direction, but waited on a reply from the base. "Yes, sir. It looks like there are two separate generators. One east, here—" a still image appeared on Fynta's HUD with a red circle around a large, grey box. Fynta didn't even know they had that software. "And the other is here—" a second red circle appeared. "You and Sergeant Jorgan are positioned right here at the moment." It was a blue X this time. Dorne had given them a helpful diagram. And colorful.

Fynta knew that if both gennies blew while she were on guard duty, she'd be instantly suspicious. "Can you tell which one feeds to the building we need?"

There was pause and the muffled sound of off comm conversation. "Captain Cormac believes it is the one to east. He recognizes their construction."

"If you disagree, speak now. We need to get this right." Fynta didn't like it when Dorne sounded unsure.

"There is a high probability that he is correct," Dorne responded. Someone grunted in the background.

"East it is." Fynta motioned for Jorgan to move down the hill. He hooked the datapad back on his belt and left the remote to hover in place above the building. It wasn't long before Fynta could see their own outlines in muted grey in her HUD, creeping around the side of the complex towards the generator.

The box was larger than Fynta's expected, an industrial sized model. "Sir, before you destroy it, I should warn you that you will only have a three minute window to get inside before the backup kicks in. That is an efficient model."

"Noted, Dorne."

"How do you want to do this?" Jorgan asked.

"Got anything in that bag of tricks that can make it look like an animal attacked it?" Fynta responded with a nod to his pack. She had seen a few manka packs roaming around locally. The feline creatures were big, angry, and prized for their pelts. They'd also been known to attack temporary settlements from time to time.

"I might, actually." Jorgan slipped his pack off his shoulders and took a knee to dig through it. Finally emerging a few seconds later with a pair of metal shears. "Just in case," he said, holding them up to Fynta.

"Ret'lini," Fynta corrected as she took the cutters and jammed them into the side of the generator. That single word had become somewhat of a Mandalorian proverb. Be prepared for anything. "This is going to make a lot of noise. Be ready to run," she said before flipping the switch to the on position and planting her feet to hold them steady as the sheers tore through the metal in jagged lines.

"Lieutenant, I'm picking up concerned comm chatter," Dorne announced. "They are arguing over who has to go look into it."

"Noted," Fynta said again and jammed the sheers in a little deeper, making as big a mess as possible so that the metal looked like it had been torn, not cut. Finally, she hit something important that sparked and fizzed; then the lights went out.

"Sir, there are several men advancing on your position," Dorne reported.

Fynta tossed the shears to Jorgan and they took off around the side of the building closest to them. She could hear people shouting, the lights attached to their weapons creating a chaotic display of shadows in every direction. "Ah, footprints," Fynta whispered, turning back to quickly remedy her oversight.

Jorgan hooked an arm around Fynta's waist and pulled her back. "Took care of it, sir," he responded as they flattened themselves against the building.

"Kandosii!" Fynta applauded, she knew it was a good idea to bring him along.

"Move now, sir. The way is clear," Dorne directed. The two commandos ran in a squat towards the building marked for the Empire. The backup lights clicked on as soon as the door shut behind them and Fynta breathed a sigh of relief. The emergency power was run by a smaller, noisier generator that bathed the room in a sickly, yellow light. The only thing of note immediately apparently in the room was an old computer terminal.

"Let's see if they left us anything useful. Watch the door, Jorgan."

The Cathar nodded and stood to the side, watching out the small, square window towards the top. He saw through it fine, Fynta would have had to stand on her toes. All she did was touch the console and the screen flickered to life. RECORDED MESSAGE BEGIN – CONTACT: PRIMARY.

"Well, this looks interesting," Fynta said as she pressed play.

A small holo of Gearbox appeared in the middle of the console. "Forward Battery, this is Primary. I've got some fresh ballistics data for the MA-3s you've loaded down there."

"Well," Jorgan said with a hint of a growl in his voice. "If it isn't our old friend, Gearbox. Nice that the geezer's keeping busy, I guess."

Fynta hadn't realized it when she'd first met the man, but upon closer inspection, he did look to be one of the more senior members of the old Havoc. Which only made him more dangerous. She crossed her arms while the holo played, silently annoyed that she was going to have to play ball with the Thul nobleman now. Finally, Fynta relented with a sigh. "Looks like Marcus was honest on all points."

"Looks that way." Jorgan pointed at the holo and snarled, "Here that, you old crank? Your noble buddy is selling you out!" The same bitterness was welling up in him all over again and it always made Fynta feel guilty.

Gearbox's message went on unperturbed. "We've been doing some testing for Project-B and worked out new results for your range recs. You'll want to nudge those MR-3s a good 0.053 degrees positive-lateral to get clean hits on Zone three." The holo Gearbox put his hands on his hips, assuming a relaxed posture while encouraging the mass slaughter of innocents. "Anyhow, stay sharp out there, kids. Maybe once Project B's complete we'll have you over for a little demonstration. Primary out." The message ended and Gearbox was sucked back into the console.

Jorgan was the first to break the silence. "What do you think _Project B_ is? He certainly sounds excited about it."

Fynta inserted a holodisk and copied the message. "Whatever it is; it can't be good."

"No kidding, sir," the Cathar muttered. Fynta was pretty sure he rolled his eyes too.

"Sir, they've almost completed repairing the generator," Dorne interrupted patiently.

Fynta inserted a data spike, transmitting a virus into the system that would wipe it clean and fry all the electronics on the small base. Effectively grounding any missiles without screaming _Havoc was here_. "They should really encrypt these things," she commented, slipping the spike back into her belt and joining Jorgan at the door.

Jorgan was looking out the little window again when he spoke. "Looks clear, ready to move when you are."

On his count Fynta opened the door just wide enough to squeeze through and together they made their way back towards the entrance. She was on point, halfway to the wall, when all the exterior lights came on at once. Next thing Fynta knew her faceplate was full of dirt and something heavy was stretched out over her back.

"Sorry, sir," Jorgan grunted. "Two men were passing when the lights came on."

Fynta laid still, listening to their conversation. "I'm telling you that had to have been the biggest kriffing manka in the known galaxy."

"Maybe we can bag it and get rich and famous. No more odd jobs," the other man responded. The rest trailed off as they passed out of earshot. It sounded like the Empire was hiring mercenaries to do their grunt work.

Jorgan pushed himself off Fynta's back and up to his feet in one smooth motion. She felt herself lifted bodily to her feet a second later, then proceeded to dust off her faceplate and flex her shoulder. The koltotank had healed what it could, but the injury still bothered Fynta sometimes. Having a hundred kilo Cathar land on top of her was a good way to aggravate it.

"Sir. It would seem the guards are mounting a hunting party for the manka," Someone was roaring with laughter in the background as Elara relayed the information.

" _Well done, Lieutenant!"_ Cormac's distant voice called back to her.

"Now would probably be a good time to return. Don't forget the remote, Sergeant," Dorne added.

Jorgan pulled out the datapad and typed in the command with one hand while holding the other out, palm up. A couple of seconds later, the little device landed in his outstretched hand. Once he'd replaced the datapad and pocketed the remote, Jorgan looked down at Fynta. "Let's get out of here before those guards develop a brain."

**House Organa Detention Center**

Balic Cormac stood with his hands behind his back and listened with a blank expression while Palos Organa railed at him for being incompetent. Cormac was a loyal Organa man, but sometimes the job got tedious. This was one of those times. Palos was a small man, even by the average standard, granted Cormac knew he was a big guy. The nobleman also sported one of those little, pointy beards that made Cormac want to scrub his face with a wire bristled brush. "Captain Cormac. I really don't think I can make myself much clearer that—"

A group containing two woman and a big Cathar entered the main hall and drew Cormac's attention immediately. _Ah, saved by Havoc Squad_ , he thought. Smiling over Palos's head, Cormac called out to the trio. "Lieutenant! Welcome back, sir. How did your mission go?" It was an effort not to smile in Palos's reddening face. "You know. Destroying that giant missile battery that threatened our house, sir?"

Everyone had heard the rumors of Havoc Squad, even if no one could verify them, but this motley group hadn't been what he was expecting. Maybe a squad full of guys as big as himself and the Cathar. But the women. . . . The lieutenant had given Balic the privilege of watching the op over Sergeant Dorne's shoulder. He'd seen some creative work before, but that manka ruse still made him chuckle.

Lieutenant Wolfe raised a blond eyebrow at the man beside Cormac before looking back up at him. "Is everything alright, Cormac?" Seemed the lieutenant got a read on Palos and didn't like his attitude either. Cormac could respect a woman like that. She wasn't hard on the eyes either, neither of them were really. The Lieutenant had a long blond braid and dark blue eyes, one of them was encircled by a nifty looking target shaped tattoo. She cut an attractive figure in her armor too. Sergeant Dorne was in every way her opposite, even if they shared similar hair and eye color, but no less striking. She was more petite than the lieutenant, but Cormac had watched the way she worked with those computers and figured she'd make him look like a complete idiot if he ever tried to match wits with her.

Then there was the Cathar, he didn't look like a fella that Cormac would want to grapple with, despite his advantage in size. The guy looked solidly built and perpetually cranky. Cormac had only met a couple of Cathar, both of those female, one was on a slave ship they'd raided back when he'd first joined up. She'd launched out of the cage and tried to maul her rescuer, poor thing had to be sedated before they hauled her off. The other one was a diplomat, even then, her temperament had been aggressive during the negotiations. Maybe it was a Cathar thing.

"Oh, of course it is, Lieutenant. Especially knowing you just pulled off such a dangerous mission against Thul _and_ Imperials." Cormac smiled down at Palos, even if his words were directed towards Wolfe. "I'd say House Organa owes you one for taking care of such a huge threat."

Palos glared up at Cormac, then cleared his throat and greeted the woman. "Ah, yes. Allow me to extend the fondest gratitude of our noble House of Organa for your heroic assistance." The little guy folded his hands together like he was praying, a trend Cormac had noticed among the nobles. "I am Palos Thessus Organa, first nephew of his highness, the great Duke of Organa. It is an honor to make your acquaintance."

That eyebrow went a little higher as she took in the man roughly her own height. "Perhaps we can skip over the ceremonial nonsense. I have work to do."

Balic nearly lost it, he liked this lieutenant, and to his great surprise, Palos smiled too. "You'll forgive me my upbringing, I hope. A lifetime of pleasantries leaves its mark. Now, I'm told you have spent some time in the company of a prisoner detained herein. One Marcus Thul?" The lieutenant shot Cormac an accusatory glance and all his good humor vanished. Palos went on, seemingly oblivious to the silent exchange between soldiers. "This man is of no small consequence to our house, as you may well be aware. What is your interest in him?"

The lieutenant held up a hand, "Unfortunately, I can't discuss the details of my mission."

This is what Cormac had been waiting on. Palos balked, mouth open and all. "You must be joking." Then he started sputtering, the words tumbling out of his mouth multiple times before he could get them in the right order. "Lieutenant, I'm sure you can agree that my family has a right to know what transpires in our home!" The man set his feet firmly and put his fists on his hips. "Marcus Thul is telling you secrets, which I deeply suspect he would not do without promise of recompense!" It was almost painful to watch.

The lieutenant's eyes never left Palos and her expression never slipped. She replied in a calm voice, "As I said. I cannot discuss mission details with you."

Palos switched tactics, putting his palms together again and sighing. "Your distrust saddens me, Lieutenant. Are we not allies? Can we not confide in one another?" Cormac bit back a smirk. He was pretty sure this group was beyond flattery.

The lieutenant simply stared at Palos, arched eyebrow unmoved. The Cathar at her back tensed visibly, and Sergeant Dorne looked effectively bored. Eventually, Palos gave up. "Well, I'm afraid house business compels me elsewhere, so I must take my leave of you, Lieutenant," Palos said, walking a slow circle around the lieutenant. She followed him with her a tilt of her head, looking completely unimpressed while the two remained completely still. The Organa nobleman stopped in front of her again and pointed a finger at Lieutenant Wolfe. "But let me make something clear, Marcus Thul attempted to murder the head of our house. He will not be pardoned for his crime." Satisfied that he'd had the last word, the small man stalked off in a swish of robes.

"Sorry about that; but thank you," Balic said with a grin while the Havoc CO watched the retreating Organa nobleman. "I tried to calm him down but to Palos, you're just a stranger, buddying up with the guy who tried to kill his family." Cormac hated taking up for that spoiled brat, but it was his job.

"At least you didn't shoot him," the Cathar mumbled. Cormac was pretty sure he was joking. Maybe.

"I gotta say, Lieutenant, it's kind of nice to see someone who doesn't just bow and _yes'sir_ the nobles all day."

Lieutenant Wolfe crossed her arms and turned her raised eyebrow on Cormac. "This lifestyle doesn't seem to suite you, Cormac."

"What can I say, my job is to stand where they send me. Not much use for a mountain infantry guy unless war breaks out again. Anyway," Cormac pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "I've been watching Marcus since you left. I don't think he's made a sound or moved a centimeter." The lieutenant made an effort to see around Balic but gave up. "I'm sure he's been looking forward to your next visit. I'll be out here if you need anything." Cormac stepped out of the way with a grin. "I'll try to keep Palos in the dark, Lieutenant. But I can't make any promises."

Lieutenant Wolfe's features smoothed and for a moment, Balic thought she'd smile. Instead she turned towards her two subordinates with hands on hips. "Dorne, Jorgan, you two keep the captain company for me." The Cathar looked like he was going to protest, but stopped short when she held up her hand. "He doesn't need to be intimidated. I won't be long."

"Yes, sir," Jorgan growled. Cormac thought it was a pretty impressive growl too, but Wolfe must have heard it all the time because she simply turned around and marched into the cell block. Cormac was pretty sure he caught an eye roll, though.

Cormac waited until the lieutenant entered the cell, then nodded towards a view screen. "It's not exactly a private conversation."

"She won't like that," Dorne said. Her accent didn't bother Cormac, he'd heard it plenty of times before. Alderaan accepted diplomats from all over the galaxy since they'd pulled out of the Republic. She was wearing the right colors and traveling with the right people. That was good enough for Cormac.

They all piled up in front of the screen and Cormac reached out to adjust the volume. "Ah, you've returned. I trust everything was as I described?" Marcus Thul stood as if greeting an old friend. The lieutenant stopped short and crossed her arms without reply so the man continued. "I have now proven the accuracy of my knowledge," Marcus stated. "As well as my intentions. Before I share anymore intelligence on Gearbox you must rescue my wife and daughter."

"Nobody gets rescued until I know what Gearbox is up to with Project B," she answered in a flat tone.

Marcus simply shook his head, "I have stated the price of further intelligence. Until you rescue my wife and daughter, we have nothing further to discuss."

The Cathar nudged Sergeant Dorne with his shoulder, "Think she'll hit him?"

Dorne considered the screen with a tilt of her head. "Not this time. Perhaps if he persists in making demands," she answered in that oddly clipped way.

Cormac decided he liked these people. He figured it couldn't hurt to pose a couple of questions while they weren't busy. "What's it like in Havoc Squad?"

"I've gotten to practice my medical skill on a regular basis," Dorne answered and Cormac got the impression she wasn't joking this time. He bit back a smirk so she wouldn't think he was being rude. "Jorgan has been with the lieutenant the longest, though."

Cormac crossed his arms and watched the screen. "She seems to have things under control."

"That's one way of putting it," Jorgan answered. When Cormac looked over at him for an explanation he found a man who looked like he hadn't meant to say it out loud. Clearing his throat, the Cathar restated. "What I mean to say, is that the lieutenant has her own way of doing things. Not always by the book; but always effective."

Cormac nodded. "I can believe that." So far, everything he'd seen and heard had been pretty far from standard procedure.

"They can't be seen traveling with you," Marcus said, drawing Balic's attention back to the interrogation. The lieutenant hadn't moved a muscle. They were discussing family passwords, disguises, and coordinates. So, Cormac excused himself to grab a couple a cloaks and snow masks for the women. When he returned, Lieutenant Wolfe had rejoined the group and they were huddled together, speaking in hushed tones.

"We're really doing this?" Jorgan asked.

Cormac cleared his throat and they all looked up at him. "So, I guess that's it then. Nothing for it but to rescue the wife and daughter, huh?"

The lieutenant sighed, "At this point, there's no other choice, Captain."

Cormac shrugged. "Well, there's probably worse things to do in the galaxy than rescue noble ladies. Even if they are Thul."

"You want the job?" Jorgan asked and Lieutenant Wolfe cast a warning glare over her shoulder.

"Oh," Cormac said, deciding to change the subject before he got anyone in trouble. "I've got you some cloaks and masks here, to disguise the ladies, I mean." The lieutenant nodded her thanks and shoved them at Jorgan. "It's going to be tough, you know, getting to them. There's bound to be loads of guards, Imperial and Thul, in every direction."

"Got any tips on entry point?"

It took Cormac a full two seconds to realize the lieutenant was being serious about asking for his advice. Granted, Cormac had only worked two other co-op missions, neither of those CO's had been interested in anyone's opinion outside their unit. "Well, if you're good at climbing, I'd suggest scaling the side of compound instead of taking the road."

"I'll take that under advisement."

"Good luck, Lieutenant." Cormac watched them leave and hoped Dorne would let him watch this op too. It made him miss his mountain infantry days.

* * *

Elara listened to the idle chatter around her while they walked through the massive Organa complex back to their suite. The main topic seemed to be the ever brewing threat of civil war and the politics that went along with it. Including a hushed, yet heated argument between a soldier and a politician about the lack of manpower and forward momentum on the battlefield.

"Cormac seems like a solid guy, don't you think?" Fynta said thoughtfully as she flipped her helmet between her palms, bring Elara's attention back to her comrades.

Jorgan snorted. "That's an understatement. He's built like a rancor."

Fynta wrinkled her nose at him, "Yeah, he is a big guy, but that's not what I meant."

"I agree, sir. He is very polite. I should like to review his service record," Elara added. Both Fynta and Jorgan looked back at her and Elara felt heat in her cheeks again. "You can learn a lot about a person by their service record. It shows how far they've come."

"You should get on that, Dorne. I'd be interested to see it myself," Fynta said as she opened the door to their shared room, sparing a small smile as Elara passed.

"Shall I ask first or slice in?" Elara wasn't sure that the Alderaanian government would appreciate either.

Fynta looked at Jorgan, who only shrugged. "Try official channels first," the lieutenant said at last. "Ask that Palos guy, make it seem like Cormac's in trouble. He'll cough up the records in no time. Just make sure you look for inconsistencies that could indicate tampering."

"Yes, sir. I'll get started on that at once. In my free time, of course. I assume you'll want me here again?" Elara saw the lieutenant wince and realized her comment had come across as an accusation of favoritism, instead of her pragmatic assessment.

"I promise, Dorne, I'm going to get you out in the field more," Fynta said by way of apology.

"Sorry for the misunderstanding, sir. I didn't mean to complain. I just wanted to be clear of my objectives before I start a side project." Elara went to the computer terminal to check the read out. It didn't look like much had happened since they left to meet with Marcus.

"Ah." Fynta gave an unconvincing nod as she sat cross legged on the bed. Most people didn't understand Dorne's matter of fact nature, she'd come to terms with it. At first, the fact that the lieutenant seemed to prefer the sergeant's company to hers had stung, until she saw how resourceful a team they were. Fynta was right, Elara's best use was dealing with the technology and sewing up the others when things didn't go to plan. Which they often didn't.

Fynta leaned back on the bed with a sigh. "You know what I miss," she said, seemingly at random. "Uj'alayi. Uj cake to you aruetiise." Elara had learned some time ago that that word meant anyone not Mandalorian. Fynta used it to tease them from time to time, although Elara was slowly picking up on the language and principles, forcing the lieutenant to delve deeper into her own culture, hence, teaching Elara more. It was a delicate game, one Dorne wasn't sure Fynta even understood was happening. "What about you Dorne, what's your favorite sweet. Healthy choices are not an option."

"I rather like the candied nuts, sir. The kind with the hard shells." Elara's father brought them home when he returned from a battle, he had never forgotten.

"How about you?" Fynta asked, looking over at Jorgan. Elara immediately understood what she was doing.

The sergeant didn't miss a beat. "Pies, any kind, but the tangier the better."

Fynta grinned at him. "Yeah, I had you pegged as a pie fellow." The lieutenant leaned her head back and closed her eyes. "We move out in three hours. Get some rest, everyone."

"Actually, I think I'm going to contact Palos first," Elara said. She now knew where she needed to go and how long she had to get it done.

Fynta gave her a thumbs up gesture as she flopped gracelessly onto the bed, patting the mattress next to her. "Jorgan?"

The Cathar looked from the mattress to the lieutenant, then back again as if caught in some internal battler. Eventually, he sighed and joined Fynta on the bed. When Elara left, both were sitting upright against the wall, eyes closed, hands folded in their laps, and feet dangling over the edge.

After running her errand, Elara followed directions from random Organa noblemen to find Palos Organa. The man was seated in a plush chair in one of the mansion's extensive libraries. She approached quietly and sat in the chair next to him, clearing her throat and giving the minor noble her kindest smile. "Hello, sir. My name is Elara Dorne, I'm a member of Havoc Squad. I wonder if I might have a word."

Palos's eyes slid over her armor, then he sniffed. "You do not sound like a Republic soldier."

"Yes, sir, I'm aware. I defected some years back and have been granted this esteemed position through my skill in medicine." It was a tired explanation and one she did not wish to get into with this particular man.

Palos tipped his head, mildly interested. "Very well, speak quickly. What can I help you with?"

"I wonder if you might be able to help me gain access to Captain Cormac's service file. My team and I have certain—" Elara paused for effect, letting Palos fill in his own gaps. "—questions, as to his motives. They were raised during an earlier conversation while the lieutenant was interrogating the prisoner."

Now she had his full attention. Palos leaned forward, feigning grave concern. "I see, perhaps if you told me why you were here, I could help shed some light on these matters."

Elara shook her head, "I'm sorry, sir. I'm under expressed orders not to share any mission pertinent information. We thought to ask you since you seemed to have similar concerns to our own."

Palos perked up, a nasty glint entering his dark eyes. "Why yes, I believe I know exactly what you are referring to. I'll have those files sent to your room immediately." The man leaned forward and patted Elara's hand. It took every ounce of her willpower to fight the urge to pull away when he sneered. "I think we understand one another, my dear."

"It will be put to good use. I assure you." Elara stood to leave without another word. The priority now would be getting some rest before they went after the Thul women. She would need to remember to congratulate the lieutenant on her expert manipulation tactics.

**House Organa  
Guest Quarters**

An alarm was sounding somewhere in the room and Fynta wanted nothing more than to shoot the thing. The only problem was that her blaster hand was pinned. She fought down the immediate panic, the one that said _captured_ and found that it was only Jorgan. Somehow they'd both tipped onto their sides and he had managed to roll over on her arm. Thankfully, the beskar kept him from completely crushing it. Twisting around, Fynta gave the heavy Cathar a shove with her foot, dislodging her arm, but knocking her into Dorne in the process. Dorne took the collision in her stride and got up to stretch.

Rubbing the stiffness from her neck, Fynta yawned. "How'd it go with Palos?"

Jorgan grunted and stumbled off to the refresher. From what little experience Fynta had, he wasn't a bright eyed and bushy tailed kind of guy when he first woke up; or ever, for that matter. Fynta had to repress a smirk at the mental image it conjured up.

Dorne shut off the alarm, rolling her head in a half circle before looking back at Fynta. "Your technique worked perfectly. Captain Cormac's file arrived only moments after I returned." She tapped her datapad to bring up the document in question. "I haven't looked through them yet. Rest seemed a wiser option."

"Them?" Fynta stood up and knuckled her lower back. Sleeping in armor might be habit, but that didn't make it comfortable. She couldn't remember when Elara had joined them, but she was glad to see the sergeant had gotten some sleep.

"It is quite extensive," Dorne said, holding out the datapad. Fynta swiped through one file, then into another. Extensive indeed.

"Interesting." Fynta would love to have learned more about Cormac, but duty came first, so she settled for skimming over it. "So his first name is Balic. Captain Balic Cormac." Fynta gave Dorne a knowing smile, which the woman ignored. "He's been awarded multiple commendations for being wounded in the line of duty."

"So he's either really brave or really unlucky," Jorgan said, returning from the refresher and looking a little less grumpy.

"It is possible to be both, I imagine," Dorne added.

Fynta handed the other woman the datapad and checked her chrono against the sun. "We can muse over the captain's luck later. It's time to move out. I don't fancy traipsing through the woods with two noble women after dark." She had planned this op for early morning, not being familiar with the local terrain or the capabilities of the targets. Her hope was to extract the women and get to Gearbox by nightfall.

"Oh." Dorne smiled at something on her datapad. "It would appear the good captain secured you transportation. A covered hovercar." Fynta wondered what strings he'd had to pull to commandeer a vehicle for strangers, without telling them why he needed it. "He says, _Can't leave my post, but best of luck to ya_." The last word sounded droll in Dorne's proper accent.

Fynta glanced over Dorne's shoulder with a smile as she took her turn in the refreshers. That message had come to Dorne's personal box, meaning the young sergeant had found someone she fancied. Fynta washed her face and found the other two members of her squad waiting when she got back.

"Well, let's get started. I want to be in position long before we begin the extraction. We aren't sure what opposition we'll face." Fynta tested the blade in her gauntlet, letting it spring out with a _shlunk,_ then pushing it back in. "Dorne, keep us up to date on any further information."

**House Organa  
Detention Center**

"Captain," the lieutenant called, pulling Cormac's attention to the prison entrance. She was holding her helmet under one arm while the Cathar slipped his off and rubbed the top of his head.

Cormac gaped at the two Thul noblewomen that Wolfe and Jorgan herded in. Apart from reading a schematic and relaying directions to the Havoc Squad members, he hadn't had the chance to watch the rescue op. "Oh, uh, hello there ladies. Welcome to the, uh, detention center." He hadn't actually thought about how to greet a couple women who'd just been wrestled from their home and dragged across the country to join the Thul nobleman in his cell. Somehow, Cormac didn't think he'd won House Organa any points with that one.

"Where's Marcus?" The wife scolded, pointing a finger up at Cormac as if he were her son instead of her husband's guard. "You're holding him prisoner in this horrid place, aren't you? I insist that you take me to him at once!"

Cormac looked over the woman's head at the leader of Havoc Squad. "Uh, Lieutenant, what's the call here? You think it's safe to let them in?"

Lieutenant Wolfe nodded towards the security screen behind him. "I'll take responsibility if anything happens, Captain."

Cormac looked over at one of the peacekeepers who'd drawn the short straw and had to stand guard with him. "Alright, you heard the lieutenant, take them in." He waited for the women to round the corner, then flipped the monitor on. Crossing his arms, Cormac looked down at the lieutenant when she stepped up beside him. "I have to say, I'm impressed."

The lieutenant gave Cormac a wink, which he thought was an odd way for an officer to respond, then studied the screen intently. The Thuls were hugging and crying and doting over one another. It was the picture of normality until you considered that they were all in a prison cell on enemy territory. The Cathar, Sergeant Jorgan stood on her other side. "How long should we give them?"

"Honestly," the lieutenant said with a sigh. "I should probably be in there now, but I needed a break. I've never met someone who enjoyed being abducted as much as that little girl."

Jorgan snorted. "I find that hard to believe."

Cormac insanely curious as to what the Cathar meant but reminded himself that it wasn't any of his business. "So they had a good time?"

"She thought it was the most exciting thing ever." Lieutenant Wolfe waved her hands and rolled her eyes. "Come on," she said, knocking the back of her gauntlet against the Cathar's chest plate and walking towards the cell. Cormac watched the monitor, sparing a smile for the other sergeant when she took the vacated position next to him. Dorne returned it cordially, but remained silent.

"Are you injured?" Cormac heard Marcus asking his family, pulling his attention back to the screen.

"We are uninjured, husband," the woman answered. "This beast you sent after us was more savage than anyone we encountered along the way." She spared a sharp glance at Jorgan, who made a good show of ignoring all of them completely. Meanwhile, the daughter stared at him openly. It dawned on Balic that this was probably the first time Jorgan had removed his helmet and he was probably the first Cathar the girl had ever seen. There weren't many of them left and the Thuls palled around with the Empire, who were generally a human only type mindset.

Lieutenant Wolfe crossed her arms. "Your wife and daughter are safe, Marcus. Now it's your turn." She had the baring of a woman just waiting for him to try to back out, all coiled energy, ready to be unleashed on some unsuspecting victim.

Marcus Thul nodded. "You have carried out your end of the agreement. With Altana and Valyn safe, I can tell you everything you wish to know."

His wife stepped up and put a warning hand on his arm, "Marcus—" That one word carried an entire lifetime of conversations and arguments in it, forcing Cormac to view these Thuls as regular people instead of just the enemy.

Marcus patted the woman's hand gently, "Our house is no longer ours, dear. It is a puppet and nothing more. The two of you are my only concern now." She took the rebuke silently and sat on the bed next to their daughter while Marcus returned his attention to the lieutenant. "Listen closely, soldier. Gearbox is working in a highly secured bunker deep in the mountains. A direct assault is impossible, the bunkers force fields are impenetrable."

Cormac smiled. "Bet she takes that as a challenge."

"You learn fast," Dorne said, cutting her eyes at him. Cormac liked her, she was a cheeky one.

Marcus was still talking. "—Raid the generator facility that powers it, you can shut down all of the defenses."

"Give me the details," the lieutenant responded.

"The generator facility powers all the bunkers outer defenses, it's well hidden, but I can provide you with exact coordinates." Jorgan stepped forward and handed the man his datapad again. Marcus took it and kept talking. "As to Gearbox himself I cannot offer any more information. His _Project B_ was kept secret even from House Thul's highest noblemen." Handed the datapad back to the Cathar, Marcus clasped his hands. "However, he promised Project B would single handedly turn the tide in the conflict. Whatever it is, Project B is dangerous."

Marcus took a couple of steps back towards his family without taking his eyes off the soldiers. "Our arrangement is concluded. I've given you all the information I have. Now, if you will excuse me, I'd like to spend some time with my family alone."

Lieutenant Wolfe turned on her heel and marched out without another word. It wasn't until the shields had been reactivated and she was back out in the main room that she asked Jorgan for the datapad. After studying it for a moment, she offered it to Cormac. "Do you know where this is?"

Cormac took it with a quick glance at Jorgan. When the Cathar didn't object, he read the coordinates with a frown. "Ah."

"So, not a good place for a vacation, I take it?" Lieutenant Wolfe asked.

Cormac handed the datapad back to her. "I can tell you this. That's where our special forces do their extreme weather training."

The Havoc CO nodded, still staring at the datapad. "And you've done this training?"

"I have. It gets pretty nasty up there; high winds, whiteouts, the works."

Wolfe looked at Jorgan, who shrugged, then to Dorne who gave only the slightest impression of a nod before answering some unspoken question. "I think he would do the job quite competently, sir."

Cormac must have looked as lost as he felt because the Havoc commander smiled up at him and said, "We need a guide."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> ret'lini: [Rayt-LEE-nee] just in case (colloquial - Mandos are cautious and always have a plan B)
> 
> Kandosii! [Kan-DOH-see] Nice one! Wicked! Well done!
> 
> aruetiise [ah-roo-ay-TEE-say] foreigners, outsiders
> 
> Uj'alayi, or uj cake: A flat, dense, and sticky cake, uj'alayi was made of crushed nuts, driedfruits, and a sweet spiced syrup known as uj'ayl. A favorite among Mandalorian soldiers, the extremely sweet-tasting uj cake was a mainstay dessert at Mandalorian meals and get-togethers
> 
> beskar [BESK-gar] Mandalorian iron
> 
> Other Languages:
> 
> Kriff or Kriffing: a vulgar expletive


	14. Unconventional Transportation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I do not apologize for my love of Balic Cormac. Or my apparent enjoyment of torturing Jorgan.

**Juran Mountains**

The mountain ranges that Captain Cormac had pointed out on the map were well outside the range of transmission, so Elara had to get creative. She managed to commandeer and all-terrain vehicle to get them as far as the Sunny Vale, where the Organa's had an outpost, which the lieutenant still couldn't say without sniggering. After discussing the logistics with Balic, they deduced that she could patch into the terminal there to boost the signal. Then Elara could re-route the entire thing to her screen inside the vehicle through the device she'd built to protect mission integrity. All in all, she was quite proud of it; she just hoped it worked as well in reality as it did in theory.

Cormac drove the clunky machine. Elara was sure he must be  _trying_  to hit every pothole and root within a square klick. He apologized every now and then when a particularly large one smashed Jorgan's head into the roof. The sergeant had finally decided to put his helmet on and crouched down into a squat, muttering the entire time. Fynta leaned over Cormac, gripping the back of the seat for support, while Elara kept the temporary screens from smacking into each other.

At last they arrived. Fynta held out her hand for Cormac's helmet while Elara started looking for the supplies she needed. He was in full Alderaanian Special Forces gear now, which made him look a good bit larger than he already was. It was good quality durasteel, light blues and greys to blend in with the terrain, with large pauldrons on both shoulders. Fynta had made him promise to stay out of the line of fire anyway, claiming their gear was made from better stuff, but changed the subject when he asked what.

Cormac followed Elara around the outpost to prevent questions and assure anyone who asked that she had the full backing of House Organa. Men either saluted or shook his hand wherever they went, making it clear that the captain was well known in the field, despite his recent post as a guard. The natural charisma that Elara admired so much kept anyone from asking for credentials, which she was almost positive Balic didn't have.

"I think this will do," Elara said, earning a few startled glances from the two soldiers close enough to hear her accent. Cormac waved them away as subtly as possible before following her back to the truck. While she started working on the terminal, the others were strategizing just outside.

"I've updated your HUD with our latest schematics of the place and given you access to the squad chat and private lines. Just in case." Normally, Fynta said  _ret'lini._ Elara assumed the lieutenant wasn't prepared to trust the captain with that secret yet.

Fynta handed the helmet back to Balic and gestured at his armor. "Is your gear air tight?"

Cormac answered without looking up, examining what Fynta had done inside his helmet. "For up to twenty minutes."

"Good, once we leave this base, you don't speak to the outside world unless I've expressly ordered it. That clear, Captain?" Fynta had a way of switching her all-business soldier persona off and on. Right now it was on and she managed to make the rank of captain sound akin to private. In other circumstances, Captain Cormac wouldn't be required to take the orders of a mere lieutenant. However, since Fynta was Republic army and Cormac was planetary, lieutenant outranked captain.

"Yes, sir." Cormac smiled and slapped the helmet down over his head. Elara heard the faint hiss of it being sealed.

"Testing."

Elara nearly jumped out of her seat when his voice boomed from the terminal she had procured. "I read you, Cormac," she gasped, reaching to turn the volume down. Once that was settled, she leaned out of the hatch. "We are ready, sir."

"Thanks, Dorne. Remind me to buy you a drink when this is over," the lieutenant said as she put on her own helmet and sealed it.

"Because she didn't get us drunk enough the last time," Jorgan muttered before sealing his armor as well, earning him a playful punch in the ribs. One that was hard enough to make him grunt.

"Bet that's an interesting story," Balic chimed in.

"He's just sore because he lost," Fynta answered. "Alright, Havoc. Let's move out. The sooner we take down Gearbox, the sooner we can take a hot shower."

Elara estimated they had roughly six hours until dawn.

**Wardpost Landa**

Cormac led them to a platform just outside the base and shook hands with the civilian who was running the stable tonight. "We need to hitch a ride up the mountain." The man was an older gentleman who'd been manning this station for as long as Cormac could remember.

"What. Is. That." Jorgan punctuated each word, gesturing to the large shadow behind him. Cormac nodded to the older man before turning to the two Havoc members.

"Is it flapping?" Fynta, as he'd been told to call her in private, tilted her head. Cormac thought it was odd that everyone in the squad went by their last name except the CO.

Cormac hooked his thumbs in his belt, it was good to be back out here again. "Yep. This is a thranta. It's an indigenous, nocturnal species. Silent and hard to spot since they're cold blooded."

"That's a handy ally to have," Fynta said as she stepped forward. The thranta crooned in a bubbly voice that made them sound aquatic instead of aerial.

"These were bred specifically for military use. They get pretty excited when they see anyone in uniform. The heavier the armor—" Cormac moved forward and placed a hand on the side of its head. It crooned again "—the more excitable they become. This guy's my favorite. He's been around the longest."

"He's huge!" Fynta said, moving around to the side. "Can he carry all of us?"

Jorgan stayed where he was, arms crossed.

Cormac nodded, "I've seen this one carry ten armored men, granted that was in his younger days, but he should have no problem with the three of us."

"Should?" Jorgan asked.

"Can't be any worse than rappelling down the side of a building while my hostage chatters to me about how exciting it is to be kidnapped," Fynta complained with an air of exasperation.

Cormac laughed. "Really?" He hadn't been privy to that part of the mission.

"Be glad you weren't there," Jorgan growled.       

"Let's get a move on it, boys. We need to have this done before sunrise." Fynta rejoined them at the front of the creature, standing between the two men and with her arms crossed.

Cormac glanced down at Fynta, pausing to consider what she was asking. "I understand the need, but that's going to be pushing it. It's at least a thirty minute flight, then an hour long hike to the peak where these coordinates say the bunker is—" He stopped talking when he realized Fynta was now facing him, hands on her hips. Cormac couldn't see her expression, but the black faceplate and her silence said enough. "Well, then. We should load up. I'll drive."

It took some doing to teach the two strangers how to mount the thranta, but they managed. Cormac was in front, Fynta positioned behind him, and Jorgan at the back. Cormac felt the occasional tug on his belt when the lieutenant leaned around him to get a better look at their surroundings. He wondered if Fynta, not a small woman by any means but definitely dwarfed by himself and the Cathar, felt claustrophobic from where she sat sandwiched between them. If she did, her voice gave no indication. "Cormac, what it that?" Fynta asked, pointing under his arm to the west. He followed her finger and zoomed his HUD in to maximum detail.

"That appears to be smoke, lieutenant," Dorne answered for him. Cormac had forgotten she could see the feed from his helmet now. It was amazing how the sergeant kept up with all the information being fed into her terminal. When he'd been watching their previous ops, Balic mostly just focused on the one with the most movement.

"Are there any friendly guard stations or residences up here?" Fynta asked.

Cormac shook his head, "Shouldn't be."

"That smoke is coming from where our generator is supposed to be," Jorgan added.

Cormac squeezed his knees to turn the thranta. "You're not going to like this part, mate," he said, looking over his shoulder at Jorgan even though it made no difference in the volume of his voice. "There isn't a landing station that way and the thranta doesn't have legs. We are going to have to bail."

"Great," the Cathar muttered.

"Just get us as close to the ground as you can. I'm assuming it's tuck and roll?" Fynta asked.

Cormac shook his head again, "No, sir. Not in these parts, no ground clearance. We aim for a big tree and grab on." He leaned down and patted the old thranta's side. "Leave it to him, he knows what to do. You just jump when I say."

"This is your show," Fynta said.

Cormac focused on a large tree directly in front of them, he had bailed into that tree with his brothers at least a dozen times. It was sturdy and the bark had been rubbed smooth by the hundreds of jumps before him. The thranta knew that tree too. "On my word," he warned. Neither of soldiers answered, but Cormac could hear one of them taking deep, calming breaths. It was kind of vindicating to know that even members of the elite Havoc Squad felt fear like regular folks.

The tree was coming up fast now and Cormac gave the order. "Go, go, go!"

He waited until both had gone, to their credit, they hadn't hesitated, then Cormac slid off too. Last thing he saw before being swallowed by the foliage was the thranta making a hard right to head home.

Just because Cormac had done this jump a dozen times before didn't mean it still didn't hurt like hell when he made contact with that first branch. This tree was at least three hundred years old and its branches had grown so close together that they were almost interlocking, making it the perfect bailout tree. By the third branch Cormac had a good grip and took a minute to steady himself.

"Everyone still breathing?" Fynta asked. Cormac couldn't see her, but she sounded perfectly calm.

Someone grunted, he guessed it was Jorgan. "I would prefer not to do that again."

"It's good experience. Everyone should jump off a thranta at midnight in unfamiliar territory," Fynta answered. "Builds character." This was a vastly different woman from the stoic officer Cormac had met at the Detention Center.

"My character is fine," Jorgan protested.

Cormac rappelled down to the ground and found the other two already winding their lines back up. It shouldn't have surprised him. Just because they had never done it before, didn't mean they wouldn't know what to do next.

"How many?" Fynta asked, hands on hips.

"Does it matter?" Jorgan replied. Cormac grinned, he'd heard this conversation before. After every single jump.

"How many?" Fynta asked again.

"Three for me," Cormac said, winding his rope back onto the wench on his belt.

Fynta looked over at him. "You don't count; you've done this before." Cormac laughed and set about getting his bearings while those two hashed it out.

Jorgan sighed and threw his hands out in front of him, "Fine. I stopped after the fifth one. Caught the first behind the knees."

"Kandosii! Not bad!" Fynta said and turned on her heel to trudge on. That word sounded familiar, but Cormac couldn't place it. It was going to nag him until he did, though. He could just tell.

Jorgan jogged a few steps to catch up, rifle cradled in his arms. "What about you?"

"Six," Fynta answered. "I overshot the first two." That surprised Cormac, he'd imagined her landing safely on her feet and walking down the first branch.

"I don't believe that for a second," Jorgan growled again and Cormac was glad to know he hadn't read the lieutenant wrong. Fynta simply shrugged and kept walking; the Cathar didn't ask again.

It took some doing, but they made it to the generator station in less than Cormac's predicted hour. Fynta set a grueling pace that reminded Cormac he'd spent too many years on guard duty. Technically, he was their guide, but there was no doubt who was leading the trio. Cormac was just there to make sure they didn't get turned around in the dense forests. He was breathing heavily by the time they reached the perimeter of the square building that now looked like a bunker. Cormac bet most of it was buried under ground.

"Jorgan, you're too tall," Fynta complained while trying to dig in the pack on his back. The Cathar bent his knees a little and she made an excited sound when she came up holding something white and cylindrical. "Send up the remote, let's get a quick look."

Jorgan retrieved his datapad from his belt and skillfully piloted the remote through the night. The images it broadcast back to them showed up clearly on their HUDs. "I count four sets of guards, sir," Dorne intoned. "But you can avoid two of them if you blow the emergency hatch to the southwest of the building."

Fynta was tossing something up and down, one arm folded around her middle. "Won't that get the attention of the guards we are trying to avoid?"

_"Distraction, sir."_

"Excellent."

_"Once you have entered the building there should be nothing stopping you from reaching the generator."_

"I've got a few charges, sir," Cormac added. "I'm pretty good with directional blasts."

"Alright. We've got a plan. Jorgan and I will cover you." Fynta held what she'd been juggling out towards him, "Ever used one of these?"

It was serious ordinance in an extremely compact case. "Only once, sir."

"Brilliant, and you're still alive. You're hired." Cormac could hear her grinning.

"Explosions bring out the best in our lieutenant," Jorgan explained in a more subdued tone. Cormac didn't mind, he liked a woman who enjoyed a good detonation from time to time.

Fynta led the way, following the path that the remote showed as clear. When they reached the side of the building, Cormac began placing smaller charges at points of weakness in the masonry while she chiseled out a spot for the special ordinance in between the doorframe and permacrete. "Let's make this snappy, that patrol will be back in two minutes."

"Done." Cormac placed the mircobomb in the hole Fynta had created, angling it for the most damage with the least collateral, and herded them back behind a few trees to blow the charges. There was a flash of light and a small pressure wave, the sound came a second later. Then the entire side building collapsed in on itself. Cormac smiled at the carnage; implosion bombs were inspiring.

Fynta didn't wait for the all clear. She raised her rifle, a really beat up looking thing, and ran through the flames into the building beyond. Jorgan was on her heels and Cormac followed their lead. They all reacted based on training now, each searching a different direction for hostiles. Cormac heard rapid blaster fire from the direction the lieutenant had gone, then more from Jorgan's direction. When two men sprang up behind some burning debris, Cormac was relieved to discover that his own training would still kick in too, even after a few years of neglect.

 _NOTICE TO ALL PERSONEL. WARNING! UNSCHEDULED MAIN GENERATOR SHUTDOWN SEQUENCE INITIATED._  The automated system announced as red lights began to flash in all corners of the large room. Cormac rejoined the other two at the main terminal in the middle where Fynta was busily typing in commands while Jorgan stood guard. Cormac rounded the base of the platform and found himself staring down the barrel of Jorgan's sniper rifle. No matter how many times it happened, his bowels still turned to liquid.

The Cathar lowered the weapon and nodded for him to take up position on the other side of the lieutenant.  _IF MAIN GENERATOR SHUTDOWN SEQUENCE HAS BEEN INITIATED IN ERROR PROCEED IMMEDIATELY TO GENERATOR COMMAND TO ABORT THE SEQUENCE_. It was a really informative alert system.

"Uh-oh," Jorgan said, raising his weapon again. "Guess we can expect a lot of company coming our way." Cormac heard the boots thundering down the hall closest to him a second later. He sighted up and prepared to engage but something wretched him back by a shoulder plate hard enough to pull him off balance. It was Fynta. Cormac's shock was quickly replaced by respect when he realized just what a scrappy little thing she could be.

"Protect that generator, soldier!" Fynta shouted, pushing Cormac back towards the terminal and taking his spot. She had mentioned their armor was better qualified to take the hits that the Imps might dish out. That she was worried his armor wasn't up to par, but that wasn't going to stop Balic from taking out as many as he could.

"With all due respect, Lieutenant, I think I can better protect the generator if I'm taking down the scum coming at it." Cormac wasn't about to be coddled by a meter and a half tall woman who probably didn't weigh more than seventy kilos. She stared at him through the black faceplate, then shrugged. Cormac had enough years of experience under his belt to know that it was never a good thing when a woman wordlessly shrugged.

"Contact!" Jorgan announced and all hell broke loose. Men in various armor, ranging in colors from Imperial to random mercenaries, with just as much diversity in weaponry, flooded into the main room. It seemed like Cormac stood there depleting power cell after power cell for hours, but it was probably only a couple of minutes and he'd only emptied three cells. The rest of Havoc had four or five cells discarded on the floor at their feet each, meaning they were faster on the draw  _and_  faster shots. Cormac had been aware of his two companions in a disconnected way. He remembered seeing Fynta swinging her rifle like a club before reloading, and at one point, Jorgan had to ram one merc in the face with his elbow before shooting him. Then it was over and the room was filled with bodies, but the three of them were still standing.

Fynta slung her rifle over her shoulder like it was just another day at the office, completely ignoring the mound of dead things at the bottom of the ramp, and returned to the terminal. "Okay, Dorne, give me the rest of the code." Whatever happened must have only happened on Fynta's HUD because she started typing again. "Jorgan, bandage the captain up, please. I'd rather return him to the Organa's still breathing."

Balic checked himself over. He was so hopped up on adrenaline that he hadn't noticed the wound in his calf. Someone had hit him with an armor-piercing round and it had done its job. Seating himself on the broken box Jorgan indicated, Cormac was careful not to complain while the Cathar poured a coagulating agent into the wound and wrapped it tightly. It hurt like a kriffing manka bite, but Cormac really appreciated that neither of them said  _we told you so_.

_NOTICE TO ALL PERSONNEL. MAIN GENERATOR SHUTDOWN SEQUENCE COMPLETED SUCCESSFULLY. ALL GENERATOR FUNCTION HAS BEEN TERMINATED._

The automated system shut down along with all the lights and sounds that accompanied large machinery. Jorgan stabbed something into Cormac's thigh and he swore. Turns out it was one of those new kolto/pain reliever shots to take the edge off. The irony was, those things hurt almost as bad as the initial wound. When Cormac looked up, Fynta was standing over him. "You good to go, Captain?" The lieutenant’s posture was relaxed, but her voice was tight.

Cormac pushed himself to his feet, whatever was in that shot worked quickly. He could feel the muscles knotting up, but the pain was manageable. "Yes, sir."

Fynta nodded and Jorgan started down the ramp. Cormac made to follow, but Fynta put a hand on his chest plate, her faceplate turned up to meet his. "Listen, Gearbox is the real deal. The weapons he has will cut through your armor like flimsi. It might even go through ours. No heroic stuff. Understood?"

Cormac hated to admit that Fynta was right, because foolish as it seemed, he wanted to prove he was just as tough. However, both hers and Jorgan's armor were scorched in places, yet remained intact, meaning he really was outmatched here.

"Yes, sir," Cormac finally conceded. Fynta stared at him a moment longer before nodding again and following behind Jorgan.

**Organa Outpost**

Elara watched everything through her monitor, then switched over to Balic's private channel. "She's right, you know." His vitals were erratic and she was concerned that if he didn't slow his heart rate, the bleeding might start again.

"Yeah. Doesn't mean I have to like being benched," Cormac groused. Being that the captain was continually jovial individual, his surly tone didn't carry the same effect as Jorgan's.

"You are more valuable alive and it is not an accusation of inadequate skills, only inadequate armor," Elara reminded him. "The lieutenant wouldn't have asked you along if she didn't think you wouldn't be an asset."

"Thanks," Balic responded. At first, Elara thought he was being sarcastic. Those subtle nuances still escaped her at times; until then he spoke in a gentler tone. "Really."

Elara switched back to the main comm channel when she picked up an energy reading on the floor below them. "Sir, something one floor down is using a lot of energy. It should have shut down when everything else did."

"That's our guy," Jorgan said. This was the part of every mission Elara hated the most. She would much rather be by their side, able to render medical aid if necessary, than watching them through the monitors.

The lift opened into what looked like a ship hanger. As soon as the three soldiers crossed the threshold in the room, a large holo appeared in the middle. The man had dark skin, grey streaked hair, and an easy smile. The image of Gearbox was twice as large as a normally sized man and the volume far too high on the terminal, making his voice reverberate off the walls. "Well, hey there, kid! It's been a while now. I barely even recognized you."

Fynta motioned for the two men to fan out before responding. "Memory loss is common for people of your age."

Gearbox laughed, displaying a row of white teeth as he grinned down at the lieutenant. "Ha! Calling me old, yeah, I've never heard that before. Especially from someone I ended up killing a few seconds later." The man leaned forward, Elara realized in that moment that he was sitting on something. "What are you going to do, shoot my hologram? That'll really show me. So welcome to my little research bunker. Have you had a pleasant stay so far?" The man leaned back again and spread his arms wide.

Fynta had stopped in front of the terminal to engage the man in conversation while Cormac and Jorgan continued to search the room. "There a reason you're still talking, Gearbox?"

"Jorgan, he's sitting down. Keep an eye out for a piloted device." Elara knew Gearbox was a superb weapon's builder and he specialized in manned armor.

Gearbox sighed. "Ah, the impatience of youth. As annoying and worthless as ever. I've got to hand it to you, I didn't think anybody could breach this place. But here you are."

The power levels spiked and Dorne finally understood. "He's stalling for time! Power levels are off the charts!" Jorgan's and Balic’s cameras were swiveling, taking in every aspect of the room to find the origin. Meanwhile, Fynta stood at the holo, keeping Gearbox her sole focus.

"Still, you aren't real Havoc Squad," Gearbox jeered. Then all of their cameras shook from an explosion nearby. "See, a real Havoc trooper would never have strolled into a trap like this one."

Cormac was the first to get a clear view of the giant machine Gearbox was operating. It lumbered out of one of the hanger bay, the metal door smoking and bent back from the force of the blast. It looked like a larger version of war droid from Nar Shaddaa, M1-4X. The POV feeds shook with every step of its tripod legs, Elara estimated its height at around four and a half meters, and the cannons mounted on top of the cab were another two meters in length.

Fynta stood her ground as it staggered forward on unstable legs. "Couldn't win in a fair fight, huh, old man?" She was trying to provoke him, but Elara wasn't sure why.

"Sir, it doesn't look like he was able to finish the charging process," Elara reported. A droid that size should be sturdier, unless something was wrong with the chassis, but she highly doubted the famed mechanic would make that sort of error.

"No such thing as a fair fight. Welcome to the future of war, kid!" Gearbox called back to her.

"Cormac, how much explosive did you bring?" Fynta asked over the comms.

"A rocket launcher and a few meters of detonite. You got a plan?" Balic answered.

"Maybe. If I keep him distracted, think you and Jorgan and flank that thing and blow it to hell?"

"Yes, sir," Cormac answered enthusiastically.

Jorgan wasn't as enthusiastic. "Can we try a plan for once that doesn't nearly get you killed?"

"I haven't died yet." Fynta paused. "Do you have one?"

Jorgan remained silent.

"Hope you're ready to make history—" Gearbox said, now projecting from the machine. "—because you're going to be this baby's first confirmed kill!"

"I'm honored, really." Fynta motioned for the rocket launcher from Cormac, still making no attempt to seek shelter.

"Go ahead, kid. Test out my new armor. I'm curious to how well it holds up," Gearbox taunted, spreading the droids arms wide to indicate he was giving her a free shot.

"Jorgan, Cormac. Take out the legs and find me a hatch to get in there. We can't breach this thing with explosives, but if we can bring it down to our level, maybe we can maybe get him out of it." Fynta stood with her feet apart and hoisted the rocket launcher onto her shoulder. "I'd  _really_  like to take him alive."

Two red beams shot past on either side of lieutenant, the impact on the floor was enough to make her feed stutter for a moment. "Hold still, kid. Trying to work out the kinks in the targeting system."

"Take your time," Fynta responded as a trail of smoke marked the rocket's path to the tank. The explosion was blinding, but when it cleared, Gearbox was unharmed.

Two more beams shot past Fynta, this time close enough to make her dive behind the holo terminal. "Oh come on. Don't be like that," Gearbox laughed again.

Fynta reloaded and fired from where she knelt behind the terminal with the same effect. Meanwhile, the two men's camera feeds showed that they were directly beneath the tank, hastily placing the charges. "Sir, I found the hatch," Balic reported.

"Good work, now finish up and get out of there," Fynta answered.

"Havoc doesn't hide, kid. We meet our enemy face to face!" Gearbox laughed from within his suit of armor. "Or face to overpowered superweapon."

Dorne watched through Balic's POV as Fynta stepped out from behind the terminal as if to fire the last rocket. "You don't know the first thing about being in Havoc Squad," the lieutenant argued. In the distance, Jorgan gave her the all clear signal. "For instance," Fynta began, dropping the launcher at her feet and holding up a detonator. "We work as a team." She pressed the button and the force of the blast in the enclosed space knocked everyone off their feet. Dorne could see the roof from Fynta's feed, what looked like twisted, burning slag from Jorgan's, and Cormac's was completely black.

"Sitrep," Fynta ordered with a groan. She clambered to her feet and started running at the machine that now lay on its side on the floor.

"I'm alive," Jorgan replied, already at the hatch trying to pry it open.

"Yep," Cormac gasped. Given his poorer quality armor, he had probably taken more of the blast than the others. Thankfully, all Balic’s vitals were steady and his visual feed resumed.

Then hatch blew back, throwing Jorgan off his feet again, and Gearbox stormed out enraged and weapons hot. He ran directly at the lieutenant with enough speed that she didn't have time to stop before he hit her with the force of a charging reek. Gearbox grabbed Fynta by the throat, lifted her off her feet, and slammed her into the floor. Cormac had eyes on the two, but he looked to be having trouble getting over the debris that had piled up in front of him.

A small arms bolt took Gearbox in the shoulder, glancing off his armor without a scratch. The man barely seemed to notice. “Damn it! My rifles’ pinned under the rubble," Balic reported in a voice that was anything but calm as more blaster bolts ricochet off the Gearbox’s armor.

Dorne watched in horror as the former Havoc mechanic emptied his blaster's charge into the lieutenant's chest with his free hand, while the other remained around her throat. The expression that filled Fynta's camera was pure, insane hatred. Her heart rate spiked and Elara heard the woman growl with the effort of escape. When Elara glanced back at Balic's view, she could see that Gearbox was kneeling on the lieutenant's wrist, keeping her from reaching her blaster.

"Why won't you blasted die?" The man growled through his teeth. Tossing away the empty blaster, Gearbox pulled a long hunting knife. "Guess I'll have to cut you out of there first."

Dorne was so preoccupied by the image in Fynta's POV that she didn't see Jorgan running towards them until his arm was around Gearbox's neck, his other hand on the man's head. He gave a sharp twist; Dorne could hear the crack through the microphone in Jorgan's helmet. Then the big man's eyes rolled up in his head and he fell to the side.

Jorgan wasted no time gloating over his revenge. Instead, he knelt down next to the lieutenant and began inspecting her armor. "Bloody hell," Cormac breathed, still trapped by the wall of burning rubble. "What kind of armor is that?"

Through Balic’s camera, Elara could see the lieutenant sit up with some aid from Jorgan. She nodded once, answering some unspoken question, or maybe he'd asked it privately, then wrapped her knuckles on her helmet. "Beskar. Everyone needs a set if you ask me."

"Sir, are you injured?" Elara cut in. Fynta's vitals were returning to normal levels, but she'd taken quite a beating.

"Fine, Dorne. Although I think I'm going to be sore tomorrow." That phrase may as well be Havoc Squad's motto.  _I'll be sore tomorrow_. "We're heading back, do me a favor and get everything packed up?"

"Right away, sir," Elara responded, leaning back in her chair and taking a shaky breath. Next time the lieutenant decided to do something like this, she would insist on going along. If only to ensure they weren't lying to her when they said they were alright. Elara was suddenly annoyed that a group of adults could make such uncooperative patients.

**House Organa**

Jorgan kept an eye on the lieutenant as discreetly as possible. After a pounding like that, one that left more than a few new dents in her chest plate, it was possible her lung would collapse again. He'd watched Fynta’s vitals during the two hour hike to the nearest thranta stable while she and Cormac chatted about beskar and life as a Mandalorian. Cormac seemed to think it made Fynta damn near indestructible and didn't bother hiding his awe. Jorgan wondered sometimes if Fynta agreed. By the time they all piled back ingot the tank, the sun was beginning to crest over the horizon.

Once settled in, Jorgan opened up a private line to Fynta. "Sir, a word?"

"What's up, Jorgan?" She sounded fine, although all of them were bound to be covered in bruises soon.

"Do you have a death wish?"

He was met with silence for the longest time and Jorgan started to wonder if Fynta planned to respond at all. Then he heard her sigh. "No, but I'm not afraid of it."

"You're the commander of Havoc Squad, you can't keep taking risks like that. You're going to get yourself killed."

"You'd have me relay orders from the safety of the ship?" Fynta snapped, indicating Jorgan had clearly touched on a nerve. She took take a steadying breath before adding to her sharp statement. "I work best when I'm in the field, and if something happens to me, you'll take charge of Havoc Squad and continue the mission."

Jorgan didn't have a response, so they lapsed into silence. He noticed that she didn't sever the link, though. They just sat on the floor in the rumbling tank and listened to one another breathe. Being grateful that everyone was going back to the ship in one piece again, mission complete.

Fynta had set up a four hour window for everyone to clean up and rest before regrouping for debrief. Dorne made them each, Cormac included, submit to a medical screening before allowing them to take a nap. Several hours later found them standing in one of the main foyers in the Detention Center with Fynta dolling out take off responsibilities.

"Let's wrap this mission up and get back on the Thunderclap. I miss my bed."

They found Cormac standing guard by the cells again. The man had a black eye and lump on his bald head, but he'd managed a change of clothes and somehow looked refreshed, if not haggard. Palos Organa stood before him, railing against the captain again, while Cormac answer in a carefully neutral tone. "Sir, I was following the lieutenant's orders. You know, cooperating with our allies, isn't that the drill?"

Palos made a valiant attempt at being bigger than the Alderaanian SpecForce soldier. "Captain, you have converted our prison into a—well, a hotel for enemy nobles!"

Cormac sighed and rubbed a big hand down his face. "I already told you, sir. The lieutenant had to rescue the ladies to get Marcus to start talking. That's all this is."

Fynta came to a halt close behind the Organa nobleman and crossed her arms. "This guy giving you trouble, Cormac?" Jorgan knew Fynta liked the man, which meant her protective instinct now branched out to include him.

Palos gave a startled gulp and spun. "Ah, lieutenant—" he stopped short and balked at the sight before him. Fynta had her own bruises, but the one on her cheek was nothing compared to the ones Jorgan had seen on her torso while Dorne was wrapping her ribs.

The man recovered quickly, but his voice carried less of its previous venom. "No doubt returning from yet another daring and influential operation on my family's behalf and without our knowledge." Jorgan saw Cormac's fists clench. Fynta had that effect on the people she worked closely with, inspiring instant loyalty. "Care to explain to me why there are now three Thul nobles here insisting they have a bargain with you?"

Fynta never blinked. "That information is classified, sir."

"Enough." Palos dropped all pretenses of politeness and jabbed a finger at Fynta, "You are taking advantage of our house's hospitality to engage in secretive dealings which may or may not be to our benefit." The small man crossed his arms, an unimpressive sight. "I will have the truth. What bargain have you struck with the man and his family?"

"My deal." Fynta’s tone remained level as she punctuated each word. "Was for the wife and daughter, not Marcus."

The wife and daughter erupted into tearful pleas but Marcus Thul silenced them. "Hush now, my dears. I knew that this might come to pass and it is a small price to pay for your safety."

Palos opened and closed his mouth like a fish trying to breathe out of water, but no words came out and his arms fell loose at his sides. Cormac crossed large arms over his barrel chest, a satisfied smile on his lips. Eventually, Palos pulled himself together enough to speak in coherent sentences again. "This arrangement is satisfactory. The ladies will be remanded to the Republic's care as soon as arrangements can be made."

"I'm glad we could come to an understanding," Fynta said.

"Indeed. I apologize in earnest for doubting your commitment to the relationship between our house and the Galactic Republic," Palos replied, inclining his head slightly.

The daughter railed against the force shield, pounding on it with her fists and screaming curses through her tears. Fynta's eyes never left the nobleman. It was hard to watch a child crumble like that and not feel something, but Jorgan kept his face just as clear of emotion. Palos, on the other hand, squirmed under the child’s wrath. "I'll uh, leave you to grieve then," he said over his shoulder before turning back to the soldiers. "Farewell, Lieutenant. Captain." Without another word, the noble strode off quickly in a swirl of robes.

Fynta watched Palos leave before rounding on Cormac with enough ire to make the captain take half a step back. "You pulled guard duty again?" She grabbed Cormac’s forearm and pulled him out of the cell block, Jorgan following behind.

Cormac forced a weak smile as he straightened and rubbed the back of his neck. "Wanted to make sure I got to say bye before you moved on, Lieutenant. You got your man; Palos is happy. Everything's tied up." The man glanced around the room, clearly searching for someone. "I was hoping to say goodbye to Sergeant Dorne too."

Fynta narrowed her eyes at the man for a few seconds, then her face split into a grin and she slapped the arm she'd been holding. Cormac winced, but Fynta ignored it. "Let me buy you a drink to show my gratitude for all your help, Captain."

The captain looked surprised, but answered immediately. "Hey that would be great. Maybe you could tell me some war stories. They all like that?"

"More or less," Jorgan answered. Cormac had grown on him, and it had been nice having another man around for a change.

"Meet me in the cantina in say, an hour?"

"Sounds good, sir." Cormac saluted and the two Havoc soldiers headed towards the exit.

Fynta stopped outside, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. "I'll miss this."

"Maybe the next op will be at a vacation resort," Jorgan said wistfully. He would certainly miss the clean air and the scenery.

"I wouldn't mind seeing you in some swim trunks," Fynta teased with a playful nudge of her elbow that sent a sharp pain through Jorgan’s entire abdomen.

The Cathar managed to hide his wince and even offer a retort. "I’ll bet you wouldn’t."

Fynta laughed harder before managing to get herself under control with a groan of pain and wrapping an arm around her bruised ribs. "Do me a favor and help Dorne get the ship ready for departure while I meet with Cormac." She wagged her finger at Jorgan when he started to protest. "Don't give me that look, I won't be long."

Jorgan crossed his arms. "You're thinking about asking him aboard, aren't you?"

"Am I that obvious?" Fynta called over her shoulder as she started towards the spaceport.

Jorgan jogged to catch up and smiled at the fact that Fynta Wolfe was indeed becoming predictable. "Sometimes. To me," he answered. No doubt she would still appear as chaotic and reckless as ever to anyone outside of her immediate circle. Not to mention, Dorne had been equally disappointed that she wouldn't be able to say farewell to the captain when Fynta ordered her back to the ship, which was unlike Fynta. A clear sign that the lieutenant didn’t plan on leaving the man behind.

Jorgan considered the idea before giving his opinion. "I think he's a good match for our group. I wouldn't mind having another guy around too."

"I'll admit, I was tempted to hold out for another eligible female recruit," Fynta said with a coy glance up at Jorgan. "Maybe Sergeant Jaxo." Her thinly veiled insinuation must have gotten the reaction she hoped for because the lieutenant was instantly lost in another fit of laughter, this time making her wince.

"I think I would have to put in for a transfer," Jorgan replied. Fynta settled for a smirk this time, but he hadn't been kidding. The thought of being trapped on a ship with both Fynta and the flirty sergeant from Coruscant was terrifying. At least Dorne was a professional.

"No worries." Fynta reached up to pat Jorgan’s shoulder as they walked along the clean streets of the Organa estate. "I'll make sure you aren't the only male aboard the Thunderclap. A girl needs options too."

**The Thunderclap**

An hour later Jorgan was cleaning his weapons and armor on the floor in his room when a crackling noise caught the Cathar’s attention. It was coming from the comm system in his helmet. Sliding it over his head, Jorgan saw that Cormac's mic was still active. The captain must not have realized that the audio and visual shut off separately. Jorgan was about to flash the captain's comm when the sound of muffled voices stopped him.

"Hey there, Lieutenant. Where is everyone else?"

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you alone," Fynta responded in a matter of fact tone. "I've reviewed your service record. There's a lot there."

"Yes, sir. I've bounced around a lot. Granted, not as much as you folks," Cormac chuckled.

"Three medals for being wounded in combat. A couple more for heroism in the line of duty, commendations, referrals. Either you're the perfect soldier or you have friends in high places."

"Your drinks, hun," said a female voice, more distant.

Conversation died for a few minutes, then Cormac lowered his voice. "Look, Lieutenant. I just do my job and try to keep my head down. I don't appreciate what you're implying."

"I'm not implying, my friend. I'm genuinely interested."

"Interested in what?" Cormac’s voice took on a wary tone.

"Why you're guarding prison cells. You're obviously a front lines kind of guy," Fynta commented and Jorgan could imagine her raising one eyebrow at the captain.

"Oh, that. I always wanted to join the Republic army. Go figure Alderaan would pull out right before I hit draft age. So I joined up with the Alderaanian Special Forces instead." Jorgan heard the creak of a chair. "Not a lot for me to do right now unless that civil war actually happens. So I guard House Organa and handle the high profile prisoners."

"I can appreciate that," Fynta said.

"Thank you, sir. If I may ask, what's your story?"

"Before we get to my story, I want you to listen carefully. We have a few openings in Havoc Squad. One of them being a demolitions expert. Now, I love blowing things up as much as the next girl, but it's not my expertise," Fynta said, but her voice didn’t carry its normal playfulness, which grabbed Jorgan’s immediate attention.

"Wait. Is this an interview?" Cormac asked.

"Of sorts. Here," Fynta said. "Before you make a decision, you need to know what you'd be getting yourself into. I'll wait."

Jorgan could wait too. He shouldn't eavesdrop, but it curiosity was a fantastic motivator for making bad decisions. Besides, this might be important, if Fynta forgot something important, he could gently remind her for the next candidate. Jorgan just wished he could see what was happening around them. Jorgan was almost done reassembling his sniper rifle when Cormac let out a long whistle.

"Wow. Disgraced lieutenant, an up jumped sergeant with a lot of career blanks, and an Imperial deserter," Cormac said at least and something heavy landed right next to the mic. Jorgan’s mouth went slack with the realization that Fynta had given Cormac their files. It was humbling to hear how the rest of the galaxy looked at them. "Misfits of the galaxy?" Cormac asked in forced merriment.

"Pretty much." Fynta's voice became louder, as if she'd leaned in closer to the mic. "Now, should I tell you what those files can't or would you like to walk away now?" Jorgan was reminded of his and Fynta's conversation on General Vander's shuttle right after leaving Ord Mantell. He already knew what Cormac's answer would be.

Cormac took a long moment to consider. "You folks seem like a decent lot to me. Let's hear your side."

"Be advised, Cormac. What I say from here is off the record and confidential. I'll know if you talk." Fynta’s tone was low and deadly, she wasn't messing around this time. Jorgan assumed the captain nodded his agreement because Fynta continued, "That man we took out, Gearbox. He was a part of the old Havoc Squad. Long story short, they got bad intel, botched a mission, and were disavowed. Now they're pitching a tantrum by selling their talents to the highest bidder. Which just so happens to be the Empire."

"You're pissing me about," Cormac said with a snort.

"Someone must have known something wasn't right, because I was pulled out of an op six months in the making and thrown into a fully formed, cohesive squad."

"You're a spook," Cormac guessed, a little bit of venom creeping into his voice.

"Not quite, but I worked with them regularly," Fynta answered calmly. "Now, those original members decided to steal a very large bomb and run off to their new masters. I was dropped into the group in the middle of that particular op without any instructions from the brass. As it happened, I was the only official member of Havoc left when the smoke cleared, so I got the promotion. That disgraced lieutenant had the misfortune of being the local ops division commander, so he was left holding the bag. Before Havoc entered his life, he was a rising star with a lot of years of experience and a promotion on the horizon. To add insult to injury, his general liked him so much, that after he demoted Jorgan to a sergeant, he chucked him in under the command of the woman who helped ruin his career."

"Ah," Cormac responded simply.

"The deserter spent two years in the Imperial military. Elara’s family is an old bloodline and have all served with honors. She made the choice to walk away from all of that when she witnessed war crimes being swept under the rug. Do you understand, Captain? Sergeant Dorne left her family, her home, everything she knew and loved, and walked willingly into enemy territory. She's been in one hostile environment after another because, as a general rule in this galaxy, it's not the individual's actions that count, but the actions of all those who came before them."

"I didn't know." Cormac's voice was almost a whisper in the wake of Fynta’s quiet fury and Jorgan sympathized. Last time Fynta had used that tone, she was threatening that ensign on Taris who had publically disrespected Dorne. It was clear now that the lieutenant had developed a fiercely protective disposition towards Elara Dorne.

"That's because a file can't tell you who a person is. Only what they accomplished or failed at.” Fynta's tone remained calm but insistent. "Each of the soldiers on my ship has made tremendous sacrifices for the Republic. They have all earned their spots regardless of what this device says about them." There was a tapping noise next to the mic. "Out of everyone, I am the least qualified for my post. Right place, right time. But I'm who they chose to put in charge, so it is my job to make sure they get the right treatment. We don't have spouses, or lovers, or even friends. We have each other and that ship. So if you really want to know what you would be getting into, that is what it is. Isolation and anonymity."

Fynta paused for a long time before speaking in a quieter voice, almost a sigh. "You won't find three more different people in this galaxy, but I trust each one of those soldiers with my life. And hey, if a Cathar can trust a Mandalorian and an Imperial, then I'd say that means there is hope for this galaxy. Any questions?" Only silence followed, then Jorgan heard the sound of a chair scraping across the floor. "Take the night to think about it, Captain. You know where to find us. We break atmo in the morning." There was the familiar clink of a credit chip against the table before Fynta spoke again. "Drinks are on me."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a:
> 
> ret'lini: [Rayt-LEE-nee] just in case (colloquial - Mandos are cautious and always have a plan B)
> 
> beskar [BESK-gar] Mandalorian iron
> 
> Other Languages:
> 
> Kriff or Kriffing: a vulgar expletive


	15. Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit fluffy, but Elara is awesome, so I'm allowing it. That, and there is a good bit of character development as a team here.

  **The Thunderclap**

Jorgan sat in the floor of his room, helmet still on his head, and reeled at the revelations Fynta had just dropped on Captain Balic Cormac. She always seemed like a cocky kid to him. One who could age a decade at a moment's notice, but still a kid. The woman who had just defended each and every one of her soldiers was no kid, though. She was a commanding officer. Jorgan thought back to their conversation during their return trip to the Organa estate. _If something happens to me, you'll take charge of Havoc Squad and continue the mission._ Could Fynta be so easily replaced?

Someone knocked on the doorframe. "Um, Jorgan?" Elara was staring at him when he pulled the helmet off. He must have looked like an idiot. "Are you alright, sir?"

Jorgan sat the helmet on the floor and rubbed his face with both hands, "Yeah. What can I do for you, Dorne?" He'd always liked the medic, but Fynta had put things in a new perspective and he looked at Elara in a new light. She was brave, possibly the bravest woman he knew.

"It's just, the lieutenant's back and—" the younger woman cocked her head to the side, "Are you sure you're alright? Your color looks wrong."

Jorgan wondered how long he'd been sitting there if Fynta had already returned to the ship. Dorne was a spot on soldier who never missed a detail, but he wasn't ready to discuss it. He wasn't even sure where to start. "Yeah. Just got some letters from home," the Cathar lied. His family was dead and he rarely received personal mail.

"Where is home, sir?" Dorne leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms.

Jorgan thought back to what Fynta had told Cormac. "The BT-7 Thunderclap."

The medic nodded and ran her hand along the wall, "It does feel like it, doesn't it." She wasn't asking for Jorgan input, simply agreeing with him, so he remained silent. "Oh." Dorne straightened, remembering why she was standing in his door. "The lieutenant would like for us to meet in the briefing room. She has an announcement."

"You know she's going to come after you if you keep calling her that," Jorgan warned, attempting a playful mood.

Dorne gave Jorgan a devious grin as she turned to leave his room, it was the first time he had seen that expression on the young medic and she wore it well. "I know."

So, the sergeant had a sense of humor, or she was picking up on some of Fynta's bad habits. Dorne had found the one thing that really rankled Fynta and was going to exploit it as mercilessly as Fynta exploited theirs. Jorgan was quite proud of her for it too. Heaving himself to his feet, Jorgan left behind his armor, helmet, and bodysuit to dry. Fatigues were more comfortable anyway and Dorne had already changed into hers.

The briefing room was right across the central room from Jorgan's quarters, so he could see Dorne and Fynta, shoulder to shoulder, bent over something. Fynta had removed her all of her upper body armor, but remained in the leg plates and boots. Both women had their backs to him, heads together, speaking in whispers.

"What's going on?" Jorgan asked, easing into the room hesitantly. Fynta and Elara turned as one and smiled at him, the synchronization of movement and mirrored expressions made him instantly wary.

"You know how Dorne has that Idio… ade…" Fynta looked to the sergeant for help.

"Eidetic Memory, sir," Dorne offered.

"Yeah, that. Perfect memory recall? And how she's read all of our files and probably understands them in a way we never will?" Jorgan got the impression these were rhetorical questions and wondered where this was going. "Well, we might be a few days off. Frankly, with all the systems we visit I'm never quite sure what day it is, but—" The two women stepped apart to reveal a small dessert. A pie, to be more specific, with four plates laid out around it. "Happy Birthday, Aric."

Jorgan stared at the dessert, remembering their conversation from the day before, or maybe it had been two days. Fynta had managed to wheedle personal information out of him again. "I didn't even realize . . ." he paused and sniffed the air, the ripe fruit inside the flaky crust smelled amazing, making his mouth water.

"Well, more or less." Fynta clapped her hands, rubbing them together as Dorne shuffled the woman away from the table. "Let's cut it already. It smells delicious." Fynta narrowed her eyes at Jorgan, seemingly accepting that Dorne wanted no assistance in serving the pie. "And yes, you have to share, that's an order."

Dorne handed the first plate to Jorgan and he savored the aroma wafting off it. It was still warm, meaning they'd just gotten it. "When did you manage to find time for this?" Jorgan asked, still staring at the dessert. When he looked up, Fynta was examining him over her plate, dark blue eyes narrowed and a playful smile on her lips. It was the kind of expression that made his heart hammer.

"Elara put in the order while we napped," Fynta replied with a winked at the other woman. "I picked it up on the way to the ship." Jorgan opened his mouth to respond, even though he didn't have the slightest idea of what to say.

"Anyone here?" Someone called from the loading ramp, breaking Fynta's spell over him.

"Come on in, Captain," Fynta called back, cutting her eyes to look past Jorgan and out the door.

It was easy to forget just how big of a guy Cormac was until he was filling the doorway to the briefing room. "Am I interrupting?"

"Not at all, Balic," Dorne answered with a smile. "We are celebrating Jorgan's birthday, would you like a piece of pie?"

Cormac slapped Jorgan on the back, almost knocking the plate from his hands with the sheer force of it. "Happy birthday, mate!" The man nodded to Dorne next, "I'd love a piece, but first I need to speak to the lieutenant."

Fynta followed him out into the hall, though neither were being particularly quiet. "You have an answer for me?"

"Yes, ma'am. I've given it a lot of thought and I think I'm ready to see some action again. You've got a good group of people here, and I'd be honored to be a part of it."

"Welcome to Havoc Squad. I'll contact your superiors and get everything taken care of, they've already been informed by our general that your transfer was pending." Fynta paused. "I think Jorgan will be happy to have another guy around too, he hasn't stopped complaining about there being too many woman." Cormac guffawed as Fynta led the way back into the conference room, grinning at Jorgan as soon as she laid eyes on him. "Come on and get some pie, Cormac."

"Were you surprised, Jorgan? Would you like another piece?" Dorne asked from where she stood at his side, gazing up at him with a look of innocence that was hard to manage in their line of work.

Jorgan's plate was empty, he didn't realize he'd eaten the whole thing already. "Extremely." A state of shock was probably a more accurate description. He couldn't remember the last time he'd celebrated a birthday.

Elara beamed at Jorgan as he held out the plate for a second slice. "Oh good. I hoped you would be. I always loved surprising my father and brother on their birthdays when I was young." She wasn't looking at him as she spoke but Jorgan thought he heard a wistful note in her voice. It was a glimpse of the woman inside that rigid exterior, someone who missed her family. Shaking herself out of her reverie, Elara slid the red, gooey dessert onto his plate. "Anyway, it isn't easy keeping secrets from a Cathar."

"Why is it so hard?" Cormac asked as he scooped up a large piece of pie, chewing between words. "Are Cathar telepathic or something." The man stopped chewing and gave Jorgan a suspicious look.

Dorne laughed, it was girlish, almost like a giggle. "Oh, no. Of course not. They are just naturally observant. Even with the deviation in bloodlines, many still retain superior sight, smell, and hearing to that of most near humans." Jorgan had caught the woman measuring him on more than one occasion. He could always tell when her wheels were turning and she was on the verge of a breakthrough. Elara liked to learn and he was something new and interesting, it had taken time, but Jorgan had eventually gotten used to it.

"The history of Cathar physiology is quite fascinating," Dorne continued. At some point, Elara had put her plate down and picked up her datapad, making notes on some new fact that had just occurred to her. "Best I can tell, you're heritage is quite close to the original Cathar species, Jorgan." She glanced at his hands and Jorgan knew what was coming next. "May I?"

Cormac leaned forward to peer over the woman's shoulder while Jorgan held out his right hand. Even Fynta had taken a step closer to see what would happened. Jorgan was uncomfortable with being so openly examined, but swallowed his pride and allowed Dorne's fingers to prod at his nail bed. "Hm," she hummed, completely oblivious to the audience she had drawn. "No retractable claws, I wonder when your bloodline deviated?"

"Come again?" Cormac said, looking from Jorgan to Dorne.

Dorne was tapping the stylus against her chin. "Your blood work definitely shows ties to the baseline species, but there is no denying the variations. Meaning one of your ancestors must be from one of the later subspecies." Jorgan became acutely aware of the way Fynta was studying him from where she leaned against the door. "But which one?"

"Subspecies?" Cormac asked again, looking completely dumbfounded.

"Naturally," Elara answered without looking up. "Every class must evolve in a galaxy where so many races interbreed. Take Mandalorians, for example, who are prone to adopting other species into their clans." Elara glanced up at Fynta. "Although, your bloodwork shows almost no biological deviations from human DNA, while many other Mandalorians' would."

Fynta snorted, turning her attention back to Dorne. "You tested my DNA?"

"Of course," Dorne said simply.

"Wait, _almost_ no biological deviation?" Cormac asked. He'd picked up on the part of the statement that should have grabbed them all.

"Well, yes. Humans are a widely spread species with a biological compatibility with almost all near-human species. Meaning that there are few _pure_ humans left in the galaxy." Dorne looked back down at her datapad, "The human genome seems to be the dominate trait, for some reason. Although, Jorgan's presence on the ship begs the question on whether or not he would be biologically compatible with a human, or if he is still too close to the original DNA line of his ancestors."

Cormac was staring at Dorne, mouth open, and Jorgan shifted uncomfortably, looking to move the focus of the conversation away from his reproductive capabilities. "You get used to it," Jorgan assured the man. When he glanced back at Fynta, her expression was a startling mixture of pity, sadness, and something that made her look almost predatory.

"I'm going to be the dumb guy who carries the heavy stuff, aren't I?" Cormac asked, pulling Jorgan's attention back around.

Dorne smiled up at Cormac. "Don't be ridiculous, Captain. Your aptitude test scores were well above normal range." He looked at Jorgan, and the Cathar just shook his head.

"On that note, enjoy a little downtime before we contact the general. I've got some reports to file, you know where to find me." Fynta winked at Jorgan, back to her usual guise of ease, before heading to her room.

Cormac rubbed his stomach, "That was excellent, but I think I need to start getting my stuff sorted." He and Fynta both seemed completely unmoved by the fact that Dorne had just announced neither of them were be completely human.

"Our beds are through that door," Jorgan pointed across the central room. "My gear is in front of my bunk. The lockers on the other side of the room are empty, make yourself at home."

"Thanks, mate." Cormac sauntered out and hefted a duffel that would have made Jorgan look like a small guy. Dorne was busy with her research now, completely zoned out, so he wasn't going to get any more conversation out of her. Dorne headed to the medbay, half eaten pie forgotten until she reached the door. Then she spun around and snatched it up before retreating again.

There was one more piece of pie left, so Jorgan grabbed the tin and made for Fynta's room. She left her door open most of the time, even while she slept, so he wrapped a knuckle on the door frame. "Come on in, Jorgan," Fynta answered, never taking her eyes off the datapad on her desk.

"How'd you know it was me?"

"You have a distinct smell." Fynta paused and looked up at him, "That didn't come out right."

Jorgan smirked and put the pie on her desk. "Why do you think I bathe so much?" He replied, taking a seat in the chair next to the desk.

"I never said it was unpleasant," Fynta responded, sliding her eyes to Jorgan and offering a smile that made his throat feel like it would close up. "Anyway, I'm almost done with these reports and Cormac's transfer papers. Dorne's new method of organizing these forms is really handy." Fynta frowned at her datapad on the desk and sighed. "I'd like to give everyone another hour or so of down time, but my gut tells me that Garza already has a new mission for us."

"Your gut hasn't failed us yet," he said absently. Fynta valued honesty within the squad, so Jorgan knew he would have to come clean because if the lieutenant figured it out later, she would be furious and might not trust him again. It surprised Jorgan to find how much that prospect distressed him. "Sir. I'd like a moment if you can spare it. A personal matter."

Fynta raised her eyebrows at him. "Sure, Jorgan."

Jorgan leaned over in the chair and shut her door, which gained him a look of concern this time. "I wanted you to know, sir, that I don't blame you for the events on Ord Mantell," he began. "You did everything you could back then and you're doing more now."

Instantly, Fynta's guard went up. Jorgan watched as her expressionless mask fell into place and cringed inwardly. "I know you don't, Jorgan," she answered in a level voice.

"No, sir. I don't think you do." Fynta's expression didn't change, not even a raised eyebrow, but a simple glance at her as it balled tightly into a fist was enough to reveal the extent of her emotional turmoil. It was almost laughable. They were so different, yet both equally incompetent when it came to letting anyone inside their protective shell of apathy. Jorgan sighed, ready to make his confession. "Cormac's mic was on at the cantina."

It was one of those rare occasions where Fynta was genuinely surprised. Her mouth fell open slightly, eyes widening as the mask crumbled and Jorgan watched the shock, anger, relief, and even fear flash across her face. Then Fynta took a deep breath to compose herself. "And you decided it would be a good idea to listen in?" Again, her voice was completely level.

"I'm not proud of it, but yes," Jorgan admitted.

"Anyone else?"

"No, sir." Jorgan sat up straight when he realized her expression had changed. It was barely noticeable, but drastic all at once. Her eyes had hardened to the point they didn't even look human anymore. He'd seen that expression before and it hadn't ended well for the other party. "I was cleaning my gear when I heard the voices coming from my helmet."

"You haven't told Dorne?"

"No, sir."

Fynta's face relaxed a little, but she never looked away. It was one of those things Jorgan had learned about her early in their time together. She met every possible situation head on and the more Fynta Wolfe stared it in the eye, the worse she thought it was going turn out. "I would appreciate it if this stayed between the two of us," she replied in a guarded tone.

"You defended us, sir. Me for the third time. That's nothing to be ashamed of." Jorgan leaned back and folded his hands over his stomach. "Dorne and I trust your judgment and I'm pretty sure Cormac is completely in your pocket now."

Jorgan saw Fynta's jaw muscles tighten as she swallowed hard, but she still managed to force a slight smile. The Cathat figured it was as good a time as any to make his retreat. "Anyway, sir. I just wanted you to know that I never really blamed you, and you have earned this post." Jorgan pushed to his feet and opened the door to slip out, closing it again just enough to give the lieutenant privacy, but not shutting it completely. The air outside her room felt cooler, easier to breath. Jorgan knew how rotten he was at this stuff and despite all her banter, Fynta wasn't much better. Taking a deep breath, Jorgan cleared his head, deciding it was the perfect time to see how Cormac was settling in.

* * *

Fynta took a shaky breath to calm herself down. She didn't know why Jorgan's words had hit her so hard, but she'd barely fought back the tears while he sat there. A few of them escaped after he left and burned down her cheeks. Generally, Fynta didn't consider herself an emotional person, but every so often they'd sneak up and surprise her when she least expected it. Shaking out her hands, not realizing that she'd been digging her nails into her palms, Fynta wiped her face in annoyance.

It was difficult to concentrate on the last two reports for Garza. Jorgan had presented a rare moment of vulnerability, pulling down his walls for the briefest minute in an effort to encourage her. His approval meant a lot more to Fynta than she wanted admit, and now that it was there, she wasn't sure what to do with it.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Fynta reflected on the rest of their conversation, deciding it was probably a good idea to make Cormac drill on shutting down his helmet and comms properly after ops. It wasn't his fault, Fynta hadn't had time to correctly train him how to use their new comm system after the op, but it could be disastrous if someone else picked them up. In a way, Fynta was glad Jorgan picked up their conversation, even if she convinced herself it was strictly to root out a possible security problem.

The ship shuddered slightly as they broke atmosphere. Jorgan had taken the initiative and put them into orbit for their de-briefing with Garza. He was probably just as uncomfortable coming in here to say those things as Fynta had been hearing them. _Now is not the time for introspection, pull yourself together and do your job._ Fynta squared her shoulders and pressed the intercom key, "Time to call the boss, everyone."

Fynta was already dialing when the remnants of Havoc Squad drifted in, one by one, Jorgan being the last. He stood silently with arms crossed and nodded when she made eye contact. Meaning those walls were back up. Cormac and Dorne stood off to the side a little, still within view, but not intrusive. The life sized image of the general came into focus. "Lieutenant, this is General Garza. Report. What is the status of your mission on Alderaan?"

"Gearbox has been dealt with, as ordered." Fynta's voice sounded hollow in her own ears and she cleared her throat.

"Excellent, Lieutenant. Top notch work. Now, regarding your second objective, assisting House Organa wherever possible. Palos Organa tells me you conducted yourself with utmost courtesy." So that was the cause for the general's grimace. "I must admit, I'm a little surprised that I received his report so far ahead of your own. Did you run into difficulties in the spaceport?" The general's concerned tone didn't fool any of them. She was annoyed that her troops were late.

"We took a couple of hours to take care of a personal matter," Fynta answered.

"Nothing I should be concerned about, I hope."

"Not at all, General," Fynta assured the older woman, yet refusing to elaborate.

"Speaking of which, welcome to Havoc Squad, Captain Cormac. You were handpicked by the lieutenant, I look forward to meeting you."

"Likewise, sir," Cormac answered with a nod.

"Return to Special Forces Command on Coruscant at once, Lieutenant. It's time we finished this."

Fynta felt her pulse quicken with the thought of finally getting her hands on Tavus. "We will depart at once."

"See you soon, Lieutenant. Garza out." For a while, no one moved. Each soldier taking in the implications of Garza's order to return.

"Coruscant. Never been there, I've heard good things," Cormac added, breaking the silence.

"Sir," Jorgan cut in. "It sounds like we are making the final push. We should probably get Cormac some better kit."

"You're right. Dorne, get his measurements for me and I'll call it in." Fynta stopped and looked at the big guy. "I think Kal's going to have to make a custom set this time."

**Orbit above Coruscant  
The Thunderclap**

"Excuse me, sir. May I have a moment of your time?" Dorne called as Fynta passed the medbay. They'd just dropped out of hyperspace above Coruscant and were waiting for clearance to land. She'd sent the measurements for a new set of beskar'gam ahead of them and tacked on a few extra credits to put a rush on it. Same as the others, Cormac had insisted on paying for it himself, and he actually carried his own unmarked credits so Fynta let him. The poor guy had gone pale when he saw the price, but assured her he was good for it. Fynta knew the captain wouldn't regret it.

"I've always got time, Elara." It wasn't true but she'd make time. "What do you need?"

Dorne's posture could have made durasteel look crooked. Fynta was learning that was a sign of agitation. "As a condition of my service in the Republic military, Personnel Division requires that I report regularly on my activities." Fynta crossed her arms, they hadn't made her do that when she joined up. Then again, she'd been little more than a merc kid, which paled in comparison with an Imperial military veteran. "However, my Havoc Squad missions are classified and cannot be shared with Personnel Division. I'd like to ask if you would vouch for me when I report in."

"I'd be happy to help, Dorne." Truthfully, Fynta had expected something a lot more difficult.

The woman's shoulders visibly relaxed, just a fraction. "Thank you, sir. We should use the ship's secure line." Dorne led the way into the main room and Fynta leaned against one of the chairs while the other woman input the frequency.

A middle aged Mirialan male with the signature diamond shaped tattoo designs across both cheeks and down the middle of his forehead appeared in the center of the terminal. He also had a thickening middle and thinning hair, but Fynta couldn't make out his skin color through the muted blue haze, so she assumed it was one of the lighter shades of green.

"Captain Kalor? This is Elara Dorne, personnel number 22-795, reporting in per regulation 449." Fynta noted that Dorne's back had gone rigid again while greeting the man.

The man laughed, "Please, Elara, you don't have to give me the whole rundown every time. I know who you are. How are things?"

The guy seemed nice, but Elara was definitely feeling strained. Fynta made a mental note to ask about their relationship later. "Well enough, sir," Elara answered. "Allow me to introduce the commander of Havoc Squad, Lieutenant Fynta Wolfe, and my new CO." Dorne paused to motion for Fynta forward. "Sir, this is Captain Kalor, Army Personnel Division."

"Pleasure to meet you, Captain. I have to say, I don't think Dorne's loyalty needs to be proven further," Fynta said, crossing her arms again. "She's shown to be a valuable asset to both our squad and the Republic."

Kalor nodded. "Oh, we are all very proud of Elara. This is just part of the process." Fynta frowned; it hadn't been a part of her process.

Fynta saw Cormac edge out of the barracks and lean against the wall just out of view of the recorder. Jorgan poked his head out of the armory and Fynta didn't see a need to make them leave. They were there to back up their squad-mate, should the need arise.

"So, tell me about being in the top squad in the Republic, Elara." Kalor had a fatherly approach to getting information, relaxed and warm, and Fynta was instantly wary of the man. "You must be keeping very busy."

"I am staying busy, but I'm sorry, Captain, you are not authorized to know about Havoc Squad's activities. My CO will have to vouch for me from now on," Dorne stated simply. Personally, Fynta would have just said something vague to placate the man, then again, Elara was most definitely not Fynta.

Kalor looked taken aback, he actually stuttered through the next few words. "What? Elara, I don't want to be a hard case, but rules are rules. This _top secret_ junk won't fly."

Fynta put on her best, _I'm in charge_ , voice, straightening her posture as she spoke. "All Havoc Squad activities are highly classified, Captain. I'm sorry for any inconvenience."

The man gave a mirthless laugh. "Inconvenience." He sighed and ran a hand down his face before snapping off a response at Dorne. "Just carry on, Elara. We'll talk about this after I've had a word with my superiors. Kalor out."

The image vanished and everyone stared in silence at the empty terminal until Elara broke the silence. "Hm. I wasn't expecting him to react so strongly. Surely he didn't expect me to report on classified information?"

"Regardless of the Captain's wishes or those of his superiors, protecting this information is a priority," Fynta said. She wasn't sure how much detail Kalor wanted, but they'd handle that later.

"Yes, sir. I'm surprised the captain didn't agree." Dorne pulled out her datapad and Fynta saw it for the distraction is was. "If you'll excuse me, sir. I have several matters to attend to. Thank you for your time."

"Need some help?" Cormac asked, crossing the room in a few strides. "I'm feeling bloody useless right now."

Dorne blinked at the big guy for a moment, then smiled. "Sure, Balic, I'm sure I can find something for you to do."

Fynta decided to see what Jorgan was up to. He hadn't said a word to her during the entire six hour jump from Alderaan to Coruscant. She wanted to make sure the air was clear between them before they went off to fight Tavus. Of course, Fynta found the Cathar back in the armory. As soon as she walked into the room he spoke, keeping his back towards her. "Got a problem, sir. Weapons malfunction."

Fynta joined Jorgan to stare down at the rifle in his hand. He looked annoyed, more so than usual. Fynta was finally starting to detect the subtle changes in the patterns around his eyes and mouth to gage his mood. At the moment, his eyebrow ridges were drawn together and the perpetual frown was a little more pronounced. "Had a couple of misfires during that job on Tatooine, then again on Alderaan. Blasted gun wouldn't fire when I had Gearbox in my sights." So that's why he'd snapped the guy's neck instead of shooting him. Fynta had just assumed it was a revenge thing.

"You need to get in touch with Sergeant Blyes on Ord Mantell and see if he's got something you can use," she grinned. He loved to hassle her about her ugly old rifle, spoils from her first fight on the planet, but it had yet to malfunction in nearly a year.

Jorgan favored Fynta's joke with one of his signature tight lipped smiles. "I think the barrel might be out of whack." He glanced back over the weapons wrack as he spoke. "Not surprising given the amount of action we've seen." When Jorgan looked back at Fynta the faint smile had made it to the lines at the corners of his eyes. "With your permission, I'd like to inspect the rest of the squad's ordinance, make sure everything is up to code."

Aric was being clever, so Fynta played along. "Looking for an excuse to go through my personal effects, are you?"

"Maybe." Jorgan lowered his voice and stepped a little closer. "There something you don't want me to find?"

Fynta smiled up at him, letting him close the gap. "I might have a few articles in my closet that aren't necessarily regulation."

Normally, that comment would have made the Cathar balk. This time, however, he took another step closer and darkened his tone. "What you wear on your own time isn't any of my business." Jorgan paused and his lips twitched into a half smile. "Unless you make it my business." His voice was husky and they were nearly chest to chest with Fynta's back against the wall, trapping her in the corner of the armory. She didn't remember backing up, but with the way her heart was pounding it didn't exactly surprise her. _Jorgan has been holding out on me_. For once, Fynta didn't have a comeback and she was dangerously close to throwing herself at him.

"Excuse me, sir-Oh." Cormac stopped short at the door. "Uh, sorry."

_Shab_. Jorgan glanced over his shoulder and took a step back. He didn't look embarrassed for a change, but the moment was gone. Fynta could still feel his breath on the back of her neck when she stepped around him to address their newest member. "What's up, Cormac?" Fynta asked, hoping her voice sounded steady.

"It's Elara, sir. She got a message and she's in a bit of a state about it." The man hovered half in the doorway, unsure if he should stay or leave.

"I'll be right there."

Cormac nodded and disappeared.

When Fynta turned back to Jorgan, he'd moved back another step. "Well, those weapons aren't going to inspect themselves." The Cathar squeezed past, pausing only a second to look down at Fynta before heading for her room. He was messing with her, which was an extremely un-Jorgan thing to do. Fynta liked it.

Cormac wasn't in the medbay when Fynta returned, but Dorne was leaning against the counter, head down as if praying. "Everything alright, Dorne?"

The woman lifted her head slowly and took a breath. "I feel I owe you an apology. After we spoke to Captain Kalor I was unnecessarily curt with you. You've been very supportive. That hasn't always been the case with the Republic personnel I've dealt with since defecting."

"I wouldn't be much of a CO if I didn't look out for my people," Fynta replied, Jorgan's praise from earlier echoing in her ears, and Fynta fought the tightness in her chest.

"It is appreciated, sir." A little bit of anger slipped through Dorne's polished façade as she plunged forward into her tirade. "People distrust me as soon as I speak. They only hear my accent." She started pacing, which was something Fynta had never seen the woman do and wondered if it was another thing she'd picked up from Jorgan. "Even when I'm not a potential spy, I'm a resource. Endless questions about Imperial culture, personnel, military procedures . . . . It's exhausting!"

Fynta let her rant, discreetly sliding the door shut behind her. Everyone needed to get things off their chest from time to time, only replying when the woman made it clear she was done. "You're an exceptional soldier, Dorne." Elara stopped pacing and put her hands on her hips to stare at the floor. "Don't worry about what other people expect. You're in Havoc Squad and we look out for our own."

Dorne managed a small smile. "Thank you, sir. I really don't complain by nature."

Fynta crossed her arms. "I hadn't noticed."

Dorne looked startled until she caught on and forced a laugh. "Sarcasm," she muttered, then heaved a sigh. "Mistrust and inconvenience are a small price to pay for a clear conscience, I suppose. I don't regret defecting to the Republic at all. Despite my past I was allowed to join the military, earn commendations, and serve in the Republic's most elite squad. I'm very fortunate."

"That's the spirit."

"Sir, might I ask you a personal question about the former Havoc Squad's member's defections?"

Fynta nodded even as her gut clenched. She had a feeling this conversation was going to be tricky to navigate while Dorne was emotionally vulnerable.

"I've heard Sergeant Jorgan's opinion on the matter, but what was it like for you to have your commander and comrades join the enemy? How did you feel?"

Fynta chose her words carefully. "I was shocked, but honestly I knew them all less than forty-eight hours and I received the majority of my intel and orders from Jorgan. They weren't interested in having me there."

"I've always wondered how my family took the news of my defection." Dorne hung her head, touching delicate fingers to her furrowed brow. "It must have been difficult for them to understand."

Fynta leaned a hip against one of the medical beds and crossed her arms. "You did what you felt was right, Elara."

"Yes, sir. Still, members of the Dorne family have served with distinction in the Imperial military for generations. It's an important family tradition. It isn't easy to reach prominence in the Empire without an aptitude for the Force, but my family did it. My parents were quite proud when I qualified for medical specialization."

Fynta nodded, Dorne was proud of her family, nothing wrong with that. Fynta was proud of hers too, even if a few of them were murderers. The medic sighed, "I hope they're all still well."

"It can't be easy to fight against your family's side." Fynta's parents were dead and while her brother wasn't working for the Empire, he could become a problem one day if they went after the same mark. Which was why they kept careful and quiet tabs on one another.

"It is a consequence I accepted when I chose to defect. I don't give it a second thought." Well, that was a lie. Who knew Dorne had it in her? "It's strange to realize how long it's been. More than three years, the Republic truly feels like home now." Then Dorne hesitated on the verge of speaking, as if she couldn't find the words, which was also unlike her.

"There's something else, isn't there?" Fynta asked. Cormac had mentioned a message and Elara still looked edgy.

"Yes, sir. I've received a strange holomessage with Imperial codes. I haven't watched it yet. I wanted someone I trusted present to supervise and confirm that I'm not engaged in secret communications with Imperial personnel."

"You okay with getting everyone together on this? Might be better having multiple witnesses."

Dorne nodded. "There really isn't much chance of hiding things on this ship anyway. I'll load it."

Fynta gathered Jorgan and Cormac, then rejoined Dorne in the main room. Seetwo ambled in simply because no one told him to get lost. After a nod from her commanding officer, Elara reached fo the terminal. "Playing now."

A young man with light hair and high cheekbones like Dorne appeared. _"Elara. It's me. Aleksie. I-I hope you're well. It's been a long time."_

Dorne gasped. "Aleksie. Sir, this message is from my brother. He's grown so much." Fynta placed the kid on the holo in his late teens, she doubted he'd hit twenty yet. Elara leaned forward slightly, still staring wide-eyed at the image. "I don't know what to say."

"Must be hard to see him like this," Cormac said, inching closer.

Dorne looked up at Cormac like she didn't recognize him. "It's more surprising than anything. I honestly never thought I'd see his face again."

" _I'm sorry to contact you like this, but I need your help . . ."_ The recording of Elara's little brother had everyone's attention now. _"My men and I-We're as good as dead. We're on Nar Shaddaa, we were caught tampering with one of the Hutts' operations."_ Aleksie shook his head, _"We never dreamed the slugs would have so much security"_ The boy looked over his shoulder and nodded to someone out of view before returning his attention to the recorder. _"These Hutts are Imperial allies, Elara. There is no rescue team. We'll be disavowed and left to die. You're my only hope now."_

Elara paused just before the image faded, studying her little brother with mingled terror and delight while Fynta pulled out her personal holo. It beeped a few times before a man she had once found nearly irresistible appeared before her in miniature.

"Hey, doll! Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," Balkar smiled.

"Hey yourself," Fynta answered. "I've got a favor to ask you. I'll make it worth your while."

Balkar raised an eyebrow, "You mean, like a real date this time? Not one that leaves me in the medcenter for the night."

"I can do that," Fynta answered, ignoring Jorgan's scowl. Although Cormac's expression nearly broke her concentration. His eyes were huge and he had a stupid grin plastered across his face. She'd probably need to explain Balkar's comment a little better.

"Alright, what can I do for you?" Balkar asked, and Fynta handed the holo to Dorne.

"Get your brother out of there," Fynta whispered.

"Thank you, sir," Dorne replied, and played the message over again for Balkar while then explaining the situation. They would have to trust Balkar and his men to handle this because there was no way Garza would give Havoc leave to track down Aleksie. Fynta was pretty sure he'd get the job done.


	16. Traitors

  **Coruscant**

Coruscant was huge beyond any scale Cormac could have imagined. He followed the other Havoc members in a state of numb awareness, taking in everything he could and not being able to process any of it. The buildings went on forever, no matter if it was up, down, or sideways. People teamed the streets in a kaleidoscope of colors and species and everyone seemed to understand the rules of pedestrian traffic except him. He glanced up, getting that feeling of vertigo again as the aircars zipped back and forth in perfectly formed, yet completely invisible, sky lanes. No way would he ever get behind the stick in a place like this. The Senate tower was no exception. It was massive and people milled around in the hallways, on the stairs, pretty much anywhere there was open floor space. The buzz of hundreds of conversations was almost deafening.

Three hours later, Havoc was finally free and Cormac's head was swimming with all the diagrams and charts they'd gone over during their meeting with General Garza. Cormac liked the woman, she reminded him of his grandma. No one messed with that woman either, but Fynta didn't relax until they were outside on the skywalks. Cormac figured there was past tension between the two alpha females.

"So, finally getting paid back," Jorgan said, nodding towards the credit stick General Garza had given Fynta to pay for the equipment they would need for the upcoming op. They had a few weeks to prepare, but the lieutenant looked antsy, like she couldn't wait to get back on the Thunderclap and head out to that secret meeting Tavus was calling. Cormac wondered if infiltrating it would be as easy as the briefing made it sound.

"It's a good thing too because Kal is charging double for Cormac," Fynta laughed. She'd probably lied to him when she told Cormac the price, but even then, it had been staggering. Fynta had offered to pay for it, but he couldn't do that. It just didn't sit right with him.

"One day," Jorgan said over his shoulder as he began walking towards the speeders, "I'll be brave enough to ask where all those credits you spend on us come from."

Fynta smirked, jogging to catch up. "That'll be the day." She didn't have anything else to say on the matter and Cormac was sorely tempted to ask. Elara had told him quite a few stories about Fynta and her credits.

The squad trumped through a residential area until Fynta stopped at one of the doors and knocked. A skinny woman let them in and bid them wait in a side room. A few minutes later a blond haired man entered and gaped at Cormac.

"Shab, woman. They just keep getting bigger!" The man cast her a rueful glare, "No wonder you traded me in."

"I'm pretty sure he's the biggest I'll be bringing in. My ship couldn't hold many more," Fynta answered, giving the man a hug.

"Good to see you again, Fluffy," the man said to Jorgan after separating from Fynta.

Cormac prepared himself to intervene should the Cathar decide to remove the guy's head, but Jorgan just rolled his eyes. "I'll wait outside."

Their host was grinning when the door shut and Fynta punched him a little harder than was necessary. "Be nice, Kal. Jorgan's a good man."

"A good man who can't take a joke," Kal responded, rubbing his shoulder. Then he changed the subject. "Your armor looks a little more worn than the last time I saw it. Kandosii!" He grinned again. "Shame our marriage contract never went through." _Marriage contract?_ Cormac thought before the man clapped his hands and turned toward him, "Alright big guy. Off with the armor."

Cormac glanced at Fynta and Dorne, not exactly sure what he meant. Fynta looked up at Balic with a devious smile. "He needs to do the final fitting. You want me to help, or Kal? Beskar'gam doesn't work like regular armor, there's a trick to it."

Cormac's mouth was answering before his brain could stop him. "What about Elara? She's a medic, so she's already seen me in my briefs." Balic winced, that hadn't come out right at all.

Fynta grinned at Dorne, who just nodded professionally. "Alright. Then Dorne will help." She stopped at the door and looked back. "You share a shower with two women though, you'll have to get over being shy." Fynta winked and she and Kal vanished.

"What do you think he meant about the marriage contract?" Balic asked, unclipping his chest plate.

"It was probably before her clan was destroyed. Mandalorians marry young. Their families probably agreed to the union when they were thirteen or fourteen, then everything went wrong and she joined the Republic army." Elara rattled off the explanation like it was a lecture. Balic stopped half way through unbuckling his leg plates and gaped at her. Thirteen or fourteen? That was hard to imagine.

Soon, Cormac stood there in not much more than his skin while Elara, who'd given him her consent to address her by her first name, examined his plates. He watched her with interest while she turned them over in her hands, then held them up to the light before pressing them against her own body for scale. "I'm not sure I've ever met a man quite as large as you," she finally commented and Cormac couldn't resist the grin that he knew was spreading across his face.

"Admit it, it'll be nice having someone around to reach the tall shelves in the medbay."

Elara looked up at Cormac, furrowed her delicate blond eyebrows for a second, then smiled when she realized he'd made a joke. "Indeed." It was at that moment that the door swung open and Kal motioned for them to follow him down the hall.

Cormac planned to pick the guy's brain a little. He'd love to hear some stories about the lieutenant from when she was just another punk Mando kid. "So, Kal, you've known Fynta for a long time?"

Kal glanced over his shoulder and grinned while Elara simply raised an interested eyebrow. "You're a lot more curious than that other guy. He growled at me."

Cormac laughed. "I wouldn't take it personally, he growls at everyone."

"Yes," Elara added. "Most often at the lieutenant herself."

Now it was Kal's turn to chuckle as he pulled back a heavy door and led them into a room full of armor. "Yeah, Fynta's been making people growl since she could walk. Doubt I could've handled her." Kal pulled down the largest plates in the room and gave them a shrewd once over. He was average sized; fit, but seemed to like his city life. Granted, that didn't mean Kal was soft. Cormac had no doubt the man could use that highly modified blaster strapped to his right thigh. "Doubt there's a man alive who can handle her." Cormac thought there might be a possibility Jorgan planned to test that theory. Because what he'd walked in on earlier was definitely more than a simple conversation about ammo. And the lieutenant didn't look like she was putting up a fight.

**The Thunderclap  
Three days later**

"How does it fit?" Elara asked, watching Cormac from the doorway to the room he shared with Jorgan.

"I'm still getting used to it. It feels different," Cormac admitted. This new armor was heavier, but thinner, which he had trouble reconciling. All-in-all, Cormac thought Fynta's non-ex-whatever seemed like a pretty good guy. The only drawback about the armor was that Cormac's helmet was completely alien to him. It had a new smell that Cormac couldn't wait to get rid of, but there was no denying the quality _._

"By the end of this mission, it'll be like a second skin, I guarantee it," Elara smiled. Cormac decided to switch gears and considered the woman in front of him. Elara had been nothing but gracious since the moment he met her on Alderaan. Perfectly polite in that way most Imperials were, except hers was completely genuine. Cormac thought Elara had a nice smile and her figure wasn't bad either, plus she was the smartest woman he'd ever met. On Alderaan, Cormac thought she was too small for all that gear she wore, all those pockets on her medical vest made it look bulkier than the others. Now that Cormac seen her in fatigues, he could see that Elara did have the muscle, it was just lean, giving her a petite look. He wasn't the only one paying attention. Cormac had seen Elara checking him out too and chose to believe it was because she found him attractive, not because he was something new for her to study.

"What is the lieutenant doing with my helmet?" Cormac finally asked. Fynta had commandeered it as soon as Havoc had boarded the ship and he hadn't seen it since. That was over two hours ago.

"Upgrading it. Our kit is highly sophisticated and we are going to need everything we can get our hands on for what is coming. Everyone needs to pull their weight." Cormac knew Elara wasn't being harsh on purpose, it was just who she was, but she seemed to catch herself all the same. "What I mean to say, is that in order to ensure you return to the ship alive, she's making sure you have access to everything we do."

"Yeah, coming back alive is always a plus," he said, just to lighten her social burden a little. When she favored him with an appreciative smile, Cormac decided to go with his gut. "What do you say to getting a couple of drinks with me the next time we have time, Elara?"

"I think that would be nice, Balic," she answered without hesitation. Cormac grinned at her. He liked the way Elara said his name. It was unique.

Cormac winked. "Excellent. Now I have a reason to survive."

**300 days since Ord Mantell**   
**Imperial Dreadnought**   
**The Justice**

The ship shuttered below Balic's feet. "We've dropped out of hyperspace. Everyone to the bridge," Fynta announced over the intercom.

Fynta was sitting in the pilot's seat, Jorgan in the co-pilot's. That was the way things went in Havoc, First Fynta, then Jorgan, which suited Cormac just fine. "We are being directed to the second hanger on the left," Jorgan pointed to a massive _Harrower_ -class dreadnought. Those things were the shabbing backbone of the Imperial navy. Something flashed by Jorgan's right hand, more dots appearing on the nav screen as ships continued to drop out of hyperspace.

"Everyone know your roles?" Fynta asked, bringing the Thunderclap in for a landing. All thanks to the phony transponder Elara had rigged that spit out Imperial codes gleaned from the surrounding ships. The four of them spent the last couple of weeks going over every conceivable contingency plan.

"Balic and I take out the hyperdrive while you and Jorgan find Tavus," Elara said. That woman knew every detail of the battle cruiser and had come up with at least half of the back up plans on her own. Cormac had spent a lot of time sitting in the medbay watching her work and he never ceased to be amazed by the sheer amount of knowledge Elara could retain. Not only facts, but her compassion was just as endless. He'd finally stolen a kiss a few days ago, which had shocked both of them, but he didn't regret it. Elara didn't appear too either.

Cormac shifted the new backpack that now attached directly to his armor, "I've got plenty of explosives."

"Once your objective is complete, return here and keep the engines running. We may need to make a fast getaway," Fynta instructed as she shut the engines down, leaving the power cells on minimum.

"And don't forget about Wraith. She's still out there somewhere and she isn't going to be happy to see us," Jorgan added.

Everyone sealed themselves into their armor except Fynta and exited the airlock, weapons holstered, and walked in like they belonged. It took Cormac a few minutes to realize what looked out of place and he nearly tripped over his own feet when it occurred to him. Fynta had covered up her tattoo. It was strange how quickly one could get used to seeing something like that, how much a part of that person it became. Balic decided he liked the lieutenant a lot better with the tattoo, it fit her.

Fynta stopped in front of a dark skinned human. "Good day, Lieutenant. Welcome aboard the Justice. Need to run a few questions by you before you head on into the crew area," he said in a friendly tone. She'd left their ranks visible, but the Havoc insignia were hidden under clever little patches that changed color to blend in with the armor.

"Go right ahead," Fynta answered, the image of calm. Cormac took the opportunity to examine their surroundings. There were droids scrubbing engine fluids off the floor of a nearly full hangar. The ships ranged from official, Republic issue, to merc class fighters, transport shuttles, even the odd Imperial vessel.

"Which planet were you posted on and who did you serve with?"

Fynta crossed her arms. "I was posted on that wrecked, swamp hole Taris. Needles was in charge."

The man looked around the hangar, then leaned in, "So, uh, so tell me . . . did Needles really test that bioweapon on his own people? Turn them into monsters?" Cormac did a quick file search to refresh his memory. Needles was one of their first missions, the guy was perfecting a rakghoul serum on his own men. What the hell was a rakghoul again? He flipped through the file images using only his eyes. _Oh, that's a rakghoul._

Fynta snorted and looked away from the man, her eyes scanning every face in that hangar. "Needles was completely insane."

"Wow," the man said. "Totally unbelievable. Sounds like you were lucky to get out alive." The guard waved them past with no further questions after that. "Go on and head for the crew area. I'll bet you could use some rest after what you've been through. See you around."

"I almost hate to kill the guy," Fynta chuckled after she slipped her helmet back on, leading Havoc deeper into the belly of the ship. Cormac could tell she was grinning just by the bounce in her voice. "He seemed like a nice person apart from the whole betraying his government and defecting to the Empire, thing."

"Those little things get you every time, boss," Cormac added.

The Havoc soldiers followed the flow of traffic for a while until they reached the turn off for maintenance. All jollity was discarded in place of wary vigilance. "Be careful," Fynta said over the squad line. She and Jorgan kept straight while Cormac and Elara turned left down a less crowded corridor.

Balic followed Elara's lead since her memory was a hell of a lot better than his. "The hyperdrive should be just up here," she said in an all business tone. They turned the corner and nearly collided with a man in a Republic colonel's uniform. "Colonel Gaff," she gasped.

"Whoa there," the man paused and glanced at her rank, "Sergeant."

"Balic, this man will know my voice, I served under his command on Taris."

"Chakaar, I knew there was something wrong with that man," Fynta added.

"Apologies, sir," Cormac said after activating his external comms. The colonel glanced at his rank too, Garza had let Cormac keep captain since he was technically on loan to the Republic army, and nodded.

"Carry on, but watch yourself."

"All those men," Elara breathed, watching the man walk away. "He sent them to their deaths knowingly." There was an edge to her voice, a slight quiver. Whoever Colonel Gaff was, he'd manage the impossible. Elara was furious.

"He'll go down with the rest, Dorne. Stay focused," Fynta reminded her.

"Yes, sir. Of course."

Cormac and Elara turned into a big room that housed an antique, glowing hyperdrive engine. There was no one else in the room and that didn't sit right with Cormac. "Let's do this fast. I've got a bad feeling." Elara hurried to the terminal and began punching in the various commands she had memorized to shut the equipment down.

"What kind of bad feeling?" Fynta asked.

"The kind that tells me that a hyperdrive this complex should have its own group of attendants just to keep it from overloading," he answered. "The place is completely empty."

"Stay sharp," Fynta responded. "It's probably a trap." _Oh, just a trap. Nothing special_. It probably wasn't to them.

"Almost done, _oof—"_ Elara slammed into the console and slid down.

"Report," Fynta commanded. Something hit Cormac hard in the groin and even through the armor, it still staggered him. Then he felt his head snap back and Cormac was on the ground.

"What the—" By the time he scrambled back to his feet a Mirialan woman already had Elara's helmet off and a blade to her throat. "It's Wraith, sir." Cormac kept his weapon trained on the green assassin. "She had some sort of cloaking device. I never saw her."

"Shoot her!" Elara yelled even as Wraith tightened the grip on Elara's hair, pulling her head back further.

"Hello, Lieutenant," the woman purred.

"Patch me through, Cormac," Fynta replied in an even voice. Balic activated the external audio so that the two women could chat, all the while he watched for his opening to shoot. "I was hoping to bump into you myself, Wraith," Fynta said once he'd confirmed the link was established.

"Me too, instead I get these two." The Mirialan inhaled along Elara's neck and spat in disgust, "It's insulting, but at least you'll get to hear them die. I'll make it slow."

"Cormac, did Dorne shut down the hyperdrive?" Jorgan asked quietly.

"Or you could come meet me and Tavus and we could discuss old times," Fynta responded, ignoring Jorgan's interference. "I would love to revisit our last meeting."

"Not completely," Cormac answered to Jorgan, unsure how his response would impede Fynta's conversation. Somehow, he and Jorgan were able to talk privately while Fynta's voice projected through his helmet. It must have been a sight to hear a woman's voice coming from Cormac's oversized armor. Meanwhile, Fynta managed to keep the dialogue going even while they chatted.

"Shoot the terminal. That hyperdrive has to be taken down," Jorgan ordered.

"If I blow it that close to them, Wraith might skewer Dorne by accident," Balic argued.

Jorgan sighed and his voice was heavy when the man responded. "That's a risk we have to take. Dorne would agree and you know it." Cormac swallowed hard, trying to decide if this really was the best course of action.

"No," Wraith pressed the blade a little harder and a thin line of blood appeared on Elara's porcelain skin. Cormac found himself taking an involuntary step forward. "I think I'll just kill them now and you later." His heart was pounding as Wraith raised the blade a fraction to get a better angle. Instinct took over and Cormac took his shot, silently praying for a good outcome.

The hyperdrive console exploded with enough force to throw them all off balance, setting off a chain reaction that sounded like it was traveling through the ship. Elara was face down on the floor, hands over her head. Wraith was laid out a few meters away and starting to push herself back up, but Cormac was on his feet first. He took another step forward and put two bolts into the Mirialan's torso and one through her skull for good measure. "Target neutralized."

"Good work." Fynta's voice sounded disproportionately loud in the midst of the sirens and fire alarms and Cormac realized she was still coming through his speakers. He switched her back to internal comms as he jogged over to where Elara lay. "How is Dorne?"

Balic was already kneeling beside the medic and when she rolled onto her back he sagged with relief. "Alive." Elara had a nasty cut on her head and she was holding her ears, but apart from that she looked uninjured and those bright eyes were intent on his helmet, as if she were trying to work something out.

"Get her back to the ship. Your part is over, now we do ours," Fynta said.

Cormac grabbed Elara's helmet from the floor by the remains of the console and put it in her hands. Then he scooped her up to carry her back to the Thunderclap, falling in with all the others who were panicking and abandoning ship. A few fights started in the chaos and Cormac realized he wasn't the only carrying a wounded comrade.

**The Justice  
Command Level**

Fynta and Jorgan were moving against the crowd. While everyone else was rushing to escape a burning ship, they were trying to reach its heart. That was where Tavus would be and Fynta had vowed they weren't leaving until he was dealt with. Jorgan almost felt sorry for the guy, he had the bad luck of pissing off the most stubborn woman in the galaxy. Jorgan had no doubt that Fynta would put a bolt through Tavus's head just for all the trouble he'd caused her. "Hey, you see who it is, Jorgan?" Fynta asked, pointing up the hallway.

"Colonel Gaff, our old friend from Taris."

"Switch places with me." Fynta grabbed his arm and squeezed around him in the crush of bodies so that she was positioned closer to the man. Jorgan wasn't sure what she had in mind until he heard the vibroblade snap out of its housing on her gauntlet. By then, Gaff was within reach and Fynta brought her right arm up as if she was punching the guy in the stomach. Gaff's eyes grew huge as he looked down at the red stain spreading across his shirt. "Elara Dorne send her regards," Fynta snarled quietly, though Jorgan wasn't sure if she'd actually spoken where Gaff could hear her. It all took less than fifteen seconds. They moved on while Gaff sank beneath a tide of people who were too panicked to notice.

"There, Dorne has her justice," Fynta said, wiping the blade on her leg plate before letting it slide back into her glove.

"Just don't forget to clean that thoroughly when we're done here." Jorgan couldn't find it in himself to be surprised. Colonel Gaff betrayed the men beneath him, sending them to Needles for his grotesque experiments. Fynta took that kind of thing seriously.

Eventually, they made it to the main command center where they found Tavus bent over a console and cursing when it wouldn't obey his commands. "Lieutenant," he said when the doors parted to admit them. "It seems that no matter how hard I try, I can't have any kind gathering without you." Fynta crossed her arms, it was her indicator that she was unimpressed by what she saw and it didn't seem worth it to draw her weapon. Jorgan felt otherwise and trained his new sniper rifle on the back of Tavus's skull. The man stood up and turned to face them. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You were a member of Havoc Squad, just like the rest of us. I suppose you belong here in some twisted way."

"You've got nothing to do with Havoc Squad, Tavus. You're a traitor," Fynta answered with venom.

"I _am_ Havoc Squad, Lieutenant. Wraith, me, Gearbox, Needles and Fuse. We were Havoc Squad." Tavus shook his head. "You are nothing." Then he gave a snort of revulsion. "You should be thanking me, really. I imagine that killing all my comrades, my closest friends, has been good for your career."

"Actually, Fuse surrendered. He's alive and well."

"Fuse?" Tavus rubbed his chin, "Well, that—that's good." Then her previous commanding officer refocused and pointed a finger at her. "You're no stranger of murder, I know your secret now and nothing can absolve what you've done."

"Then you know my people don't look for absolution," Fynta said, waving a dismissive hand before folding it back into her other arm. Tavus looked disappointed that his big revelation didn't get reaction out of either of them. "Anyway, the others tried to kill me first. Remember? On your orders. That puts their blood on _your_ hands, Tavus."

The man's face turned red with anger, but just as quickly he regained control and let his arms hang loosely by his side. "In the end, I'm glad you've come. I'm glad you intercepted that signal, and glad you've butchered the last of my loyal soldiers." His voice was completely calm and Jorgan began to wonder if the guy was cracking up. "I'm glad you're here, Lieutenant. I'm glad because I get to kill you myself."

Jorgan took two steps forward, placing himself slightly in front of the lieutenant. "That's not going to happen."

Tavus cackled, "Ha! Someone got herself a guard dog! My how the arrogant have fallen, eh _Sergeant_ Jorgan?" Tavus reached behind him.

"He's all yours, Jorgan," Fynta said in his ear.

"This is for Ord Mantell, Tavus," Jorgan growled as he squeezed the trigger. Tavus's head snapped back and he hit the console behind him hard enough to bounce forward onto the floor.

Fynta walked up and kicked him over onto his back, a single, singed hole sat in the center of his head, the back would look a little messier. "What a waste. Good shot though." Then the doors blew open and Fynta had her side arm in her hand as they both spun to face the six Republic commandos who burst through.

"Negative on hostiles!" One of the men called out. "It's all clear, General."

The soldiers formed a double line and stood at attention as General Garza herself marched into the room. Fynta and Jorgan secured their weapons and snapped to attention as well. "What the shab is she doing here?" Fynta asked over their private comms.

"At ease, Lieutenant. I've just spoken with Captain Cormac, he gave us the all clear to land." Garza walked over to Tavus and squatted down to get a closer look. Satisfied that he wasn't going to reanimate, she returned to her troops. "You've done a truly remarkable job. Congratulations. I had thought to get reinforcements here to help once the chaos started, but it wasn't needed, I see."

"I'm just glad it's over, sir," Fynta answered, removing her helmet so that she could look the other woman in the eye. Jorgan followed suit out of respect for both of them.

"As are we all, Lieutenant. I honestly had to come just to see your success for myself." Garza heaved a tired sigh as she glanced back at the body, "He was one of the best soldiers to ever serve under my command. It's a great shame that he chose to end his career this way. Tavus and his followers knew every aspect of our organization. They could have torn the Republic military apart piece by piece, but they never got the chance. . ." Garza returned her attention back to Fynta, ". . . thanks to you."

"I never couldn't have pulled it off without Sergeant Jorgan and the others, sir," Fynta responded, nodding towards him. For once, that rank didn't bother him. Sergeant Jorgan stuck it to the Empire a lot more than Lieutenant Jorgan ever had.

He met her eyes briefly, "Thanks, Lieutenant. I'm glad I got the chance to help you hunt those traitors down." It had almost been a year since Fynta Wolfe had dragged herself into his ops room, already exhausted and covered in smoke. He'd instantly misjudged her, but now Jorgan was proud to call her his commanding officer. She'd taught him how to think outside the box again; and how to have fun.

Garza smiled when Jorgan returned his attention to her, the lines around her eyes crinkling. "I'd say you've all earned some leave. Report to my office at 09:00 upon your arrival back at Coruscant for debriefing, then take some time off." The general motioned to her troops. "My men will be staying here to gather what intelligence they can."

Fynta nodded. "It'll be nice to relax a bit." Then she wrapped her knuckles on Jorgan's chest plate, "Come on, Jorgan. Let's go get a drink somewhere."

The two walked side by side on the way to the ship, feeling exhilarated and numb all at once. It was finally over. "I used to know a great cantina on Ord Mantell. It's probably a crater by now, though."

"Luckily for you, I can find a great cantina anywhere in this shabla galaxy," Fynta grinned up at him as they picked their way back through the corridors. The soldiers who hadn't been able to make their escape were lining the halls on both sides, on their knees with their hands behind their heads, while loyal SpecForce troopers searched them. Fynta didn't even spare them a glance as she lifted the external comlink built into her gauntlet to her lips. "Cormac, how's Dorne?"

"I'm fine, sir. No permanent damage," Dorne answered. "Would you please tell Balic to stop fussing?"

A mischievous grin spread across Fynta's face. " _Balic_ , make sure the sergeant gets plenty of bedrest. Wouldn't want her to risk further injury." Jorgan cut his eyes at Fynta, but she held a finger to her lips in an attempt to fight off a fit of laughter. There was a scuffling sound from the comms and Dorne was laughing. Jorgan had never heard her laugh like that.

"Yes, sir," Cormac finally responded and the comm shut off.

Fynta looked quite proud of herself.

"What was that all about?" Jorgan asked, although he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Fynta and Cormac were two of a kind and that grin rarely meant anything good.

"You know, for a sniper you have absolutely no awareness of your surroundings." Fynta elbowed him, her plates making a kind of hollow _clunk_ against his armor. "Those two have been eyeing each other since our second day on Alderaan."

Jorgan had noticed they spent a lot of time together, but Cormac would always tell him about everything Dorne had taught him. Jorgan thought it was a purely platonic relationship. "You aren't worried about it ending badly?"

Fynta shrugged. "If you worry about everything ending badly, people like us will never get to enjoy the simple pleasures of life. Who's going to want to sit at home for four months waiting for a call from their partner?" She shook her head. "No, as long as we are in, we have to take joy where we can get it, and if it all ends in tears, well, that's life." It was a pragmatic way to look at relationships within squads, something that is publicly frowned upon by the military, but privately accepted. Jorgan wasn't sure if it made sense because it was logical, or because he wanted it to.

"So . . . should we avoid the ship for an hour or so?"

Fynta made an undignified sound by blowing air through her lips. "That briefing with Garza is all that stands between us and a vacation. I'm getting us to Coruscant. I'm assuming they are responsible enough to close the door." Jorgan had a horrible mental image of the captain and sergeant in his room and groaned in protest. Fynta chuckled, "Don't worry, I'll cover your eyes."

**The Thunderclap**

Process of elimination had put Dorne and Cormac in the medbay with the door secured and Fynta assumed locked. Granted, she and Jorgan hadn't exactly looked for the loving couple. Havoc was four hours into the trip back to the capital of the Republic and still no sign of Cormac or Dorne. Fynta was impressed. Either they were going for a record or they had passed out.

"I think they fell asleep," Jorgan said, echoing her own thoughts. He was seated in the co-pilot's chair next to her, looking completely uncomfortable. The bridge had become their own personal hideaway and he seemed terrified by the prospect of leaving its sanctuary.

"Ah well, they've earned some rest," Fynta responded. "We all have." Jorgan gave a noncommittal grunt. Fynta chuckled, "Stop being such a stick in the mud."

"I'm not a stick in the mud," he grumbled. Jorgan was staring straight out of the viewport, feet propped up on a part of the console that didn't have anything flashing or beeping, hands behind his head. Fynta sat with her own legs tucked under her, fascinated by the way the blinking lights played across the patterns on the Cathar's face.

"Do you know where your parents were from?" The question was out of her mouth before she realized how rude it sounded, but she'd wondered ever since that brief conversation about his adoption on Nar Shaddaa. "Your biological parents."

"Rendilli." Jorgan took a deep breath. "According to the archives, my dad worked for Rendili Hyperworks. He was killed in some sort of accident at the plant. I never could find much information on my mother, but Mrs. Jorgan said she'd died of some plague that hit the Cathar community pretty hard. I was the only survivor from my litter." Fynta knew Cathar usually had three or four kids at a time and she wondered if he remembered his brothers and sisters. Not that she could bring herself to ask.

Jorgan continued without offering any more information on it either. "Anyway, Mr. and Mrs. Jorgan adopted me after that and I grew up like every other kid on Rendilli."

Jorgan sighed and leaned his head back, shutting his eyes. Fynta figured that was his way of facing difficult topics, by closing his eyes and letting it wash over him. So she sat in silence, studying him while the Cathar gave a convincing impression of relaxation, purposefully keeping his eyes closed. She bet he was a good son who never got into trouble, and that his parents had been proud of him.

Fynta scooted down in the seat and kicked her own feet up on the console. "You're a good man, Aric."

Jorgan opened his eyes and glanced over at her before sitting forward in his chair. Reaching across the dividing console, he ran thumb down the left side of Fynta's face. The contact was so unexpected that she froze, realizing too late that he was clearing away the concealer she'd used to hide her tattoo. His palm rested against her cheek briefly, just enough for her to register the warmth in it. "You're not half bad yourself, Fynta." Then he leaned back and closed his eyes again, hands behind his head.

Fynta regained control of the situation the way she always did. With sarcasm. "Not bad my shebs," she muttered, leaning back in her own chair. Jorgan's lips twitched in a smile.

**316 days since Ord Mantell  
Coruscant**

Cormac and Dorne had finally rejoined them an hour after the conversation on the bridge and Jorgan refused to look at either of them. Dorne seemed to notice and gave the Cathar his space, but if Cormac did, he didn't care. That man was on cloud nine. Eventually, the atmosphere had relaxed and they all fell back into normal routines around the ship during the long trip. Upon landing Coruscant, they'd agreed to share rooms for the night, Dorne and Fynta in one; Cormac and Jorgan in the other. Dorne didn't offer any details and Fynta didn't ask. Truth be told, she was a little jealous. Not because she wanted Cormac, but because it was a normal thing to do. Celibacy was not a popular human trait, but Fynta found that she had new standards.

They met in the lobby the next morning for breakfast, everyone in their fatigues. "Sleep well?" Fynta asked Jorgan while they loaded their plates at the provided buffet.

"I threatened to shoot Cormac once," he grumbled.

"So just another day in the life of Havoc." Jorgan favored her with a tight lipped smile. The kind only visible due to the way the corner of his eyes turned up.

Havoc Squad arrived at the general's office at exactly 09:00, were admitted immediately, and Garza got straight to business even though she looked a little travel worn herself. It was one of the things Fynta really liked about the woman. "Lieutenant, welcome. Stand at ease." She waited while they complied. "It is my great privilege to award to you the Republic Mark of Victory for your courageous actions against superior enemy forces," the general said as she pinned the medal on the Fynta's left shoulder, then repeated the process with Jorgan, Dorne, and Cormac. "Now, in addition, due to your exemplary leadership under the direst of circumstances, you are hereby promoted to the rank of captain, effective immediately. Congratulations."

Fynta's mouth dropped open for a second, then she responded on autopilot. "Thank you very much, General." These promotions seemed to sneak up on her.

Garza smiled. "You've more than earned it. I've called the other members of Havoc Squad here so that you can have the privilege of designating one of them as your executive officer. Your XO will serve as your second in command and be promoted to the rank of lieutenant. As Cormac holds rank in one of our lesser sister armies, your choices are between Jorgan and Dorne."

Fynta knew who she had to promote, not because she owed him, but because he had earned it. Garza handed her the rank insignia and Fynta faced the two of them. "You are both exceptional soldiers." Dorne smiled and gave her a brief nod. Elara knew who Fynta's choice would be and it was nice knowing that the other woman approved. So, Fynta stepped up in front of Jorgan. "Aric Jorgan." Fynta had to stand up on her toes in order to reach his collar while he looked straight through her, the picture of discipline. "I am promoting you to the rank of lieutenant. Effective immediately." She pinned the patch just below his collar and saluted, "Congratulations, Lieutenant."

Jorgan returned it, smug satisfaction shining in his eyes when he met hers. "Finally back where I started. Thanks, Captain."

Garza nodded and flapped her hands at them in dismissal, "Take the week off, Havoc. Dismissed."

They walked out of the senate tower into the bustling crowd outside with heads held high. Cormac slapped her and Jorgan on the back, "Who's up for a drink! We should celebrate."

"Congratulations. You both deserve these promotions," Dorne said, her smile wholly genuine.

Cormac shouldered up next to Fynta, dwarfing her completely. "Admit it, _Captain,_ " Cormac had to emphasize the rank of course. "If it weren't for me still being attached to Alderaan, you'd have promoted me."

"Oh yeah. Absolutely, Cormac." Fynta saw Dorne roll her eyes and decided she liked this side of the woman, Cormac was teaching their proper medic how to relax a little.

They all piled into a taxi and even without bulky armor it was still a tight squeeze. Fynta ended up sandwiched between the guys while Dorne sat in Cormac's lap. He had a few things to say about that until Elara flashed him a withering look. Jorgan found that hilarious, meaning he chuckled.

The cantina they chose came recommended by the hotel they'd stayed in the previous night. It was a classy place. The dancers were smartly dressed and performed choreographed numbers on a stage instead of swinging on poles and the floor didn't stick to her boots. Fynta started towards the bar but someone grabbed her around the waist and hauled her back. Cormac had her snagged in the crook of his arm, nearly lifting her feet off the floor, and sat her down at the booth in front of a startled Jorgan and Elara. "Sorry about that, sir, but no way are you buying the drinks this time. We are here to celebrate both of your promotions, so drinks are on me."

Fynta beamed up at Cormac. The guy loved life and wanted everyone else to as well. He'd been subdued at his post on Alderaan while surrounded by the nobles of the house he protected, but since getting back into action, he was opening up and becoming the comic relief of the squad. Fynta scooted over into the booth next to Jorgan and smiled, "Good man."

"He is, sir." Dorne radiated happiness and Fynta found she was truly glad for the woman. Elara had led a hard life since defecting, she deserved a little self-indulgence. "I want assure you that I will remain completely professional, no matter what transpires between myself and the captain."

"If I didn't think so, I wouldn't have allowed it, Dorne. I trust your judgment." In fact, she'd encouraged it. The place grew quiet as the acts on stage changed and Fynta waited for the music to start up again before continuing. "We'll have to set up some ground rules, though."

"I completely agree, sir," Dorne answered. Cormac returned to the table and placed the drinks in front of them, then sat next to Elara.

Jorgan grabbed one of the glasses and sniffed at the contents before taking a swig. Fynta held up a finger, "First rule. No sex on the ship."

Cormac froze with his mug halfway to his lips and Jorgan started choking.

"Understood, sir," Dorne said. The medic took it in stride, like Fynta knew she would, but the guy's reactions were priceless.

"Uh, did I miss something?" Cormac asked.

"We are deciding on what is appropriate behavior for adults sharing the same living space," Dorne answered. Fynta thought it was as good an answer as any.

Holding up another finger, Fynta continued. "Second rule, if it ever interferes with completing an objective, or causes someone to defy a lawful, direct order, they will be removed from Havoc Squad." Fynta looked each of them in the eye. "There is a difference between not leaving a man behind, and letting emotion override good sense. Let's make sure we know where to draw that line."

"That sounds perfectly acceptable, Captain," Dorne said again.

"Third rule, if you separate, I expect you to both act like adults. Understood?"

Cormac nodded and raised his glass, "And on that note, cheers to the new captain and lieutenant." Everyone raised their glasses in agreement and drank.

It was a good evening with many laughs shared amongst friends. Jorgan even managed to win some credits at one of the Sabacc tables, but then immediately lost them again, and more. Cormac and Dorne excused themselves a little after sunset, leaving Fynta and Jorgan at the cantina. She'd moved across the booth to take their vacated seat. Now watching the two saunter out together, Fynta mused out loud, "That just leaves you and me as the odd ones out now."

"Yeah," Jorgan said, tilting his head to the side. "It does." Then he leaned forward, elbows on the table, and looked Fynta in the eye. "I'm not very good at this but—thank you, for the XO spot. My career took a big hit when Tavus defected. I wasn't sure I'd ever recover."

Fynta leaned forward too, putting her face close to his so they didn't have to yell over the music. "You've proven yourself plenty of times, Jorgan. You earned that spot." Fynta needed him to understand that she hadn't chosen him out of pity. That she truly respected his leadership abilities. "You've put more effort into keeping me alive than anyone ever has. I trust you."

Jorgan stayed there a moment longer, brows furrowed, eyes glowing slightly in the neon lights, and Fynta thought he might say something else. Then he sighed and leaned back. "Thank you." They lapsed into a comfortable silence while watching the acrobatic show on the stage. Fynta nursed her drink and considered calling it an early night. She was bruised and tired after a long few months.

"What the—" Jorgan jumped in his seat and pulled and old holo device from his thigh pocket. "No one ever calls this one."

"I don't even have that frequency," Fynta protested.

Jorgan shot her an unreadable look before answering the call. SIS Agent Zane appeared and Jorgan set the device on the table. "You know, you should really encrypt your communications. Finding your frequency was child's play!"

Fynta moved around beside Jorgan so that Zane could see her too. "You're crossing the line, Zane. Stay out of our business." It was never good when the SIS took the time to track down personal comm frequencies. There was an icy fear sitting in her gut, last thing she wanted was for Jorgan to become one of their targets.

"I was about to say the same to you, sweetheart. I've done some research on you since our last meeting. I'll just leave you with a friendly suggestion: Walk away." The transmission ended.

"That smug—" Jorgan growled, casting a wary glance at Fynta.

Fynta decided to settle her own nerves the way she always did, smart mouthed humor. "I believe the word you're looking for is _chakaaryc._ "

Jorgan nodded, still watching her. "Why's he so interested in the Deadeyes?" Fynta could tell that wasn't the only question on his mind, but he didn't ask about Zane's thinly veiled threat to her career.

Fynta took a deep breath, feeling her pulse returning to normal, and turned towards her Cathar drinking buddy. Leaning against Jorgan's shoulder so she could lower her voice, Fynta raised an eyebrow at him. "Better question, why did I just threaten another SIS agent?"

"Oh." Jorgan cleared his throat, but Fynta noticed that he didn't pull away from her this time. Instead, he leaned closer. "I sent the part of the coordinates that Seetoo couldn't crack to Balkar's contact. Guy named Gav. It was a while back; I'd actually forgotten about it in the midst of everything else going on."

"I would have done the same." Fynta nudged his shoulder with her own and grudgingly moved back to the other side of the booth. "Give me a heads up next time, though."

Jorgan sighed and tucked the device back into his pocket. "Zane knows about Balkar's contact, I'll need to find another avenue."

Fynta smiled, "I'd like to see Zane outmaneuver General Garza."

A feral grin spread across Jorgan's features, teeth and all, "Now you're talking, I'll see if she's available." He excused himself to contact their commander and Fynta reflected on the previous year. From SIS assassin, to commander of Havoc squad. From not being able to stand Lieutenant Jorgan, to being fairly certain she was falling for the grumpy shabuir. And her two closest friends where an Imperial defector and an Alderaanian captain. Not to mention being shot at, blown up, and concussed more times than she cared to count. But they'd gotten their revenge. Skira, Havoc's scores were settled. It was hard to imagine that anything could top what they'd been through. Fynta tipped her head back and let the remainder of her drink burn down her throat. Probably best not to tempt fate.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> shebs [shebs] backside, rear, buttocks
> 
> chakaar [chah-KAR] corpse robber, thief, petty criminal - general term of abuse
> 
> shab - excrement (used as a curse)
> 
> shabla [SHAH-bla] screwed up - impolite
> 
> chakaaryc [chah- KAR-eesh] rotten, low-life, - generic adjective to describe an undesirable person of dubious ethics
> 
> skira [SKEE-rah] settling scores, revenge. feud (different to vengeance - more personal)
> 
> Shabuir: jerk


	17. Flawed Strategy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit long and kind of on the nose, but I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to play with Balkar again.

**Coruscant  
** **Day 2 of leave**

Jorgan was enjoying sleeping in a proper bed, in a room of his own, with a window that looked out over Coruscant. He laid on his side and watched the sun rise, it didn't matter that it was really a thermal spacestation covered in mirrors, it was still a sight to see. The walls of the hotel room were a crisp white, along with the bedding, but the furniture was all the same deep colored wood. He found the contrast relaxing.

Someone knocked on the door, stirring him from his peaceful state of mind. Expecting it to be the room service he'd ordered an hour ago, Aric wrapped a towel around himself and cracked the door to pay, intending to have them leave it there. It wasn't room service.

Fynta pushed past him into the room. "Just got off the holo with Garza, she said—" The captain turned towards him and stopped mid-sentence, scanning him slowly from head to toe then back again while Jorgan did his best to look unruffled. "Sorry, did I interrupt something?" Fynta glanced around the room as if to make sure no one was hiding behind the curtain.

"I was asleep."

Fynta raised an eyebrow. "And here I thought I was the only one who slept in the buff." That comment made his heart skip a beat and he quickly pushed the thought from his mind.

Jorgan wasn't going to let her win this time, he would stand his ground with as much dignity as he could manage while standing naked in front of his commanding officer. "What did she say?" He asked, tightening his grip on the towel. When Fynta didn't answer, he elaborated. "Garza, what did she say?"

"Right." Fynta shook her head, clearing away the thoughts that had distracted her. Jorgan felt a strange sort of pride at being able to make the worldly Fynta Wolfe lose her train of thought. "We've got a job. If you're up for it that is. It's a two man deal," she said, holding up two fingers with a grin. He was sure she'd made a joke at his expense somewhere in there.

"What is it?"

"You want to talk about it now or get dressed first?" Fynta flopped down on the foot of his bed and crossed her arms and legs. "Because I'm fine either way." Normally, a commanding officer could be cited for sexual harassment by doing a mere fraction of the things Fynta did to him on a daily basis. Jorgan knew she'd stop if he asked her to, but honestly, he enjoyed it.

"I'll get dressed and meet you on the ship," he answered after a couple of beats. Not that Jorgan was actually considering having this meeting in his hotel room, but it was vindicating to make Fynta think he would.

Fynta heaved a dramatic sigh as she stood and crossed the room. Right before she closed the door, the captain threw another glance back at him, "Shame." Then she was gone.

Jorgan shook himself. He'd thought of Dorne and Cormac more than once over the last couple of days and wondered if it was worth the risk. Right now he had a good relationship with Fynta, they watched each other's backs, they joked and teased, they'd even shared a few serious moments. All that they lacked was that next step, and Fynta had made it abundantly clear that she was willing, but the repercussions were terrifying. There was the high probability one of them might not come home from a mission. What then?

These thoughts plagued him all the way to the Thunderclap. Jorgan had boiled it down to two questions. Was it worth the risk to his career? And was it better to be alone than lose someone you loved on the battlefield? He still didn't have an answer to either when he opened the door.

"Hey!" Fynta called from somewhere inside, "Give me a hand here."

Fynta had her back braced against a large crate marked with Imperial sigils and it inched along, making poor progress with each grunt. "What is that?" Jorgan asked as he put his duffle down by the door and leaned into the crate with her while she steered it towards the corner where a pile of ties laid.

Fynta leaned against it to catch her breath once it was in place. "Thanks. I'm glad you decided to join me." She wrapped the ties around the crate to secure it to the wall hooks. "This is a gift for our old friend, Jonas Balkar. We've got to go to Tatooine to bail out one of his spooks." Jorgan scowled, he wasn't fond of Tatooine and he didn't like Jonas Balkar at all.

"Udesiir," Fynta purred, handing Jorgan her datapad. "I got a message from Garza." Jorgan had been learning Mando'a one word at a time, _udesiir_ was one Fynta used a lot lately, he knew it meant to calm down, don't jump to conclusions.

Jorgan held the device in his hands while Fynta reached over his elbow to tap a finger on one of the files. His breath caught in his throat. "Are these?"

"Yep. Otherwise I wouldn't have bothered you." Fynta hopped up on the crate and sat swinging her legs, grinning at him, "Although, I would have hated to miss the show. That towel looked good on you." Jorgan rolled his eyes at her grin.

"Anyway," Fynta went on, "I came to get you as soon as I read the message."

The datapad held the first set of coordinates for the last known location of the Deadeyes. Garza hadn't been too happy about the SIS using her soldiers without permission and since she didn't know where they were, that meant heads would roll. The general gave them permission to pursue any leads so long as it didn't interfere with Havoc's main objectives. Leave meant they could do what they wanted.

"I made a deal with Garza that we'd help Balkar out while we were there," Fynta patted the box she was perched on. "Ready to leave when you are."

"Sure you're not just looking for an excuse to see Balkar again?" Jorgan was joking. Mostly.

Fynta hopped off the crate and let her eyes slowly travel up his body, stopping only when she met his eyes. "I've have another prospect in mind now," she winked and headed for the bridge, Jorgan was pretty sure she was swinging her hips more than usual too. "It'll be like old times, just the two of us," she called back to him before disappearing up the stairs.

Except this time, everything was infinitely more complicated.

**Thunderclap  
Orbit above Tatooine**

The big ball of dirt loomed in the viewport. Fynta hadn't missed Tatooine and she wasn't thrilled about being back. The desert planet hadn't lived up to the romanticized version she remembered from her childhood the first time around, and she doubted it would be any better this time. The trip over had been a pleasant one, at least. She and Jorgan played a couple of games of Sabacc until he got fed up with losing. Fynta mentioned that they should have played it with articles of clothing instead of credits and Jorgan shot back that there wasn't much she hadn't already seen. Fynta offered to change that and she swore Jorgan actually considered it before smirking and walking off.

"Hey! If it isn't my favorite girl!" Jonas said, waving at them from one of the tables in the lounge area of the spaceport. It was deceptively clean and the cushions were only slightly torn from the decades of use.

"I'll bet you say that to all the girls," Fynta replied. She still liked Balkar, no matter what Jorgan said. The SIS agent was cheeky and always good or a laugh. Besides, she'd made her interests blatantly obvious.

"Imagine my disappointment when I found out you were on leave for an entire week and I was stuck out here." Jonas shook his head, "What we could do with an entire week." He followed it up with a wink and Fynta couldn't help but laugh. "Really though, it was a relief to hear Havoc could make it out for this one. Congratulations on the promotion, by the way. How does it feel to be so big and important?"

"Oh, you know. I tell people what I want and they do it." Fynta lowered her voice and spared a quick glance at Jorgan. "Just the way I like it."

Balkar's grin widened, "I knew I should've signed up for the army."

Jorgan cut across their banter with gruff annoyance. "Any way to skip the flirting and tell us why we're here, Balkar?" If he had noticed her pass earlier, the stubborn Cathar wasn't showing any indication.

"You may be jealous," Balkar pointed at Jorgan, "but you're also right. We need to get moving on this one. So, you know you're extracting an undercover agent who had intel on the Empire's new superweapon, code named, The Gauntlet." Jonas handed Fynta a datapad and she plugged it into her helmet on the table to download the file. "The agent's name is Prellon Garn. He's done his part. The transport he's riding in just made an emergency landing in the middle of the desert under _mysterious circumstances._ " Jorgan unplugged the datapad from Fynta's helmet and connected it to his own when it flashed the download was complete. "Garn's was an Imperial troop transport, so expect plenty of security as you approach. Once our agent is secure, be sure that the scene is clear and meet me back here. Pretty simple, right?"

"We've got some business to handle here first, so don't wait up," Fynta said, watching Jorgan out of the corner of her eye.

"Ah, this have anything to do with that business with Zane?" Balkar asked, then held up his hands, "You know what? I don't want to know. Good luck, Captain."

**The Dune Sea**

"Why do all of our missions take place out in the Dune Sea?" Fynta asked, scrolling through the information again. Jorgan was driving this time. They'd _borrowed_ Balkar's rental, Fynta said they'd be back before he realized it was gone and Jorgan hadn't complained. He was convinced she was stealing from the SIS agent just to placate him.

"I'm pretty sure seventy percent of the planet qualifies at the Dune Sea," Jorgan answered. Tatooine had been a fairly straightforward op the last time they were here, but he was having a hard time finding the familiar scenery relaxing. Fynta had told him to focus on the next task instead of the innumerable possibilities. Given he'd spent the last fifteen years trying to account for every possible contingency, Jorgan cut himself a little slack.

"Well, the good news is, our two destinations are within twenty klicks of each other. Meaning we can be shot at back to back instead of having to wait." Sarcasm was how Fynta psyched herself up before an op. It gave her the appearance of cool confidence, but Jorgan knew the captain well enough by now to see through the facade. Fynta was anxious, which didn't help his mood.

"What's wrong?" Jorgan asked finally.

Fynta looked at him through narrowed eyes for a long time before answering. "You have an unfair advantage in this relationship, you know." It took Jorgan a moment to realize what she meant, and he couldn't help but smirk. Fynta thought his enhanced senses gave him a leg up. Jorgan was perfectly fine letting her continue to believe that too.

"It's about time," he snorted, but Jorgan wasn't going to let her derail him. "You're never this apprehensive before a mission."

Fynta chewed on her lip while staring at her datapad. "I don't want you to be disappointed," she said at last. "If we get there and the Deadeyes are gone. I know I told you not to think like that, but one of us should."

Jorgan still found it odd to have someone care so deeply about how he would feel over the outcome of anything. It was one of the things that could either make Fynta an exceptional leader, or a liability. He shrugged in response. "Like you said. We can pick the trail up again. First we need to get Balkar's man out."

"Why don't you like him?" Fynta had switched her attention to the dunes outside the window and Jorgan couldn't help but notice the way the light shone in her hair.

"I just don't think you should encourage him. SIS can't be trusted. There's always an angle," Jorgan answered. It was true, but mostly he just didn't like the way Balkar looked at her.

"You're not wrong," Fynta laughed. "I'm not encouraging him. He's no more interested in me than I am in him." Jorgan grunted in response. "Okay, maybe he's interested, but it's not like I'm going to run off with him. He's SIS for fierfek's sake. Think he would have agreed to look in on Elara's brother if I weren't _friendly_?" Fynta was being pragmatic, but Jorgan didn't like the emphasis she'd put on the word friendly.

A trail of smoke marked the downed transport's landing site a few klicks away. Jorgan parked the vehicle and they made their way on foot towards a rocky alcove. It was an easily defensible spot if you weren't facing someone who had a knack for unconventional strategic planning. Fynta scanned the red cliffs surrounding them and Jorgan had the sickening feeling that he knew what she was thinking.

"I say we rappel in, guns blazing." She was staring up at the cliff face with her hands on her hips. It was exactly what he was expecting. "Plus, I snitched a few of Cormac's special grenades."

"He's not going to like that," Jorgan replied, joining her to glare up at the rock wall.

"He will when he sees the recording of them in action," Fynta said, tapping her helmet for emphasis.

Jorgan checked his chrono against the planet's two suns. "Go in now or wait for dark?" There was no point trying to talk her out of it because Jorgan didn't have any better ideas.

"It took us roughly two hours to get out here, right?" He nodded in response. "I say go in now and try to be at the Deadeye's coordinates by sunrise.

Jorgan sighed. "Let's get this over with."

Free climbing wasn't Jorgan's favorite past time, but he'd been trained for it. The cliffs were made of a sturdy red clay, easy to find hand and footholds, provided a piece didn't break off under a foot. Thankfully, that had only happened once, but Jorgan's heart was still pounding from the experience. Even Fynta seemed to be over the exhilaration by the time they reached the top. She dropped to her knees, breathing heavily, and looked over the edge. "How high do you think we are?"

Jorgan sat beside her, his arms shaking slightly from the strain. "Hundred and twenty meters, give or take?" He didn't feel stable enough to lean out over the void just yet.

"Yeah. That's what it felt like." Fynta leaned back on the rock and focused on slowing her breathing. Jorgan could hear it all clearly over the comm in his helmet and found his own was synchronizing. After a five minute break, Fynta pushed herself up and began walking around the flat surface, looking over the edge into the bowl where the Imperial ship had gone down. "I think this is our best bet," Fynta said, pointing directly below her.

Jorgan stood to join her, he hated going in shooting in these situations. That meant a forward rappel. Which meant watching the ground come at you. Fynta secured their lines and moved the strap of her rifle from across her back to one shoulder for easy access. Jorgan followed suit and wrapped the rope around his waist, then fed it under his thigh. On Fynta's count they leaned out over nothingness and let gravity do the rest.

Jorgan held his rifle one-handed and started shooting when they were about twenty-five meters from the ground, sending men in grey uniforms diving for cover. Fynta primed one of Cormac's special grenades and lobbed it into a group of them. She sent another one under the downed ship itself, then started firing her rifle.

As soon as Jorgan's feet touched the ground, he released the line and let it fall away while he found shelter behind a rock. Now it was the simple task of laying down cover fire while Fynta went the more direct route, charging the ship. She disappeared behind the vessel and there was another explosion. Jorgan picked off four more men running from the flames.

"All clear," Fynta reported. "I've got Prellon."

Jorgan broke cover, weapon drawn in case anyone had managed to escape. He found Fynta and another man with dark hair standing over the body of an Imperial officer. "That felt good," Prellon said. "You don't know how many times I had to talk myself out of murdering that walking scum."

Fynta ignored the corpse. "More Imps could be on the way. Let's get you to safety."

"Yeah, you're right. The, _rescue team,_ should be here any minute. But we can't leave yet." Prellon held up a belt of explosives, "I need to rig the ship to blow. That should vape all the evidence of my little disappearing act. Cover me?"

"Get to it."

Jorgan took up position towards the entrance of the alcove, which opened up into a cave that would funnel any ground forces right into his sights. Fynta strolled the perimeter casually, rifle in her hands, but he knew she was scanning the cliffs around them for signs of movement. The SIS agent ran up, Jorgan could hear him through Fynta's comm, if not in person. "Timer's set, she's going to blow!"

"Jorgan, make sure we've got an escape route," Fynta called.

Jorgan had a substantial head start, so when he reached the cave entrance, he slowed and scanned the short tunnel with his scope before entering. It wasn't long before he heard pounding feet and felt something ram into his back. "Big blast! Let's go soldier!" Prellon shouted as he bounced backward, regained his footing, and shot off past Jorgan. The Cathar didn't need to be told twice. Jorgan set off after Prellon just as Fynta drew level with him. He kept her two steps in front of him as they ran from the cave and pressed their backs to the solid rock wall to the right.

Prellon looked at his wrist chrono. "Three…two…one…" The wall shook violently and column of dirt was ejected from the cave entrance. The SIS agent smiled. "That should take care of that."

Fynta walked back to the mouth of the cave and nodded in appreciation before looking back at Prellon, "You ready to rejoin the Republic?"

Prellon gestured to his uniform, "Absolutely, I really hate this color."

They walked the SIS agent back to the speeder and Fynta tossed him the key. "Take this back to Anchorhead and tell Balkar we'll be in touch in the next twenty-four hours for a pick up."

The man looked at her for a moment, deciding whether or not to ask questions. In the end he nodded and climbed into the speeder. "Not sure what you're up to, but good luck, Captain." Prellon nodded to Jorgan next. "Lieutenant."

Jorgan watched the speeder disappear behind the dunes and looked at Fynta. "I guess we are walking?"

She smiled and put her helmet back on. "Not exactly."

 **The Dune Sea  
** **Nomadic Merchant Caravan**

"What is wrong with you people?" Jorgan asked.

He seemed to be asking that a lot lately. Fynta wondered exactly what he thought being in a black ops squad with a Mando leader meant sometimes. The little Jawa must have agreed because he punched his tiny fists into his hips and launched into to stream of curses that set Jorgan's great-great grandchildren on the unlucky path of marrying a bantha and birthing Trandoshans. "What's it saying?"

" _He,_ " Fynta emphasized, although she only knew that because the previous Jawa had called him husband, "Doesn't like your attitude."

The Jawa crossed his arms and glared with unsettling yellow eyes. Fynta resisted the urge to pull the hood back just to see what was underneath. No one knew what Jawa really looked like. Some suggested they might just be smoke held together by their sand colored robes. "Engines are noisy and we are going to be assaulting a cave. Bantha are natural in these parts and they are big enough for us to hide behind," Fynta explained. The waist high Jawa knocked on her leg plate, which dispelled the smoke myth at least, and chattered away at a speed that always made her think of a holovid on fast forward.

"Now what's he saying?" Jorgan asked.

"You're sure?" Fynta asked, ignoring her XO temporarily. The creature chattered some more and she tossed him an extra credit stick. "Thanks, little guy."

Fynta took the halter and led the shaggy beast to the edge of the village. "He said there's a lots of tall, metal people guarding a cave not far from here and a few unhappy people inside." She climbed up the side of the creature twice her height, grabbing its heavy fur to pull herself up. Once seated in the saddle, Fynta knocked on her leg plate the way the Jawa had, "Metal like us."

Jorgan seemed to forget his distaste of riding the bantha and clambered up behind her. "Maybe it's Torv and the boys." The amount of hope in his voice nearly crushed Fynta.

"There's only one way to find out. He said it's a couple hours' ride on a bantha, but this one's old because we're cheap, so it'll take longer." Fynta could imagine Jorgan's expression behind his faceplate and snickered. "Jawa are honest to a fault."

"No kidding," he snorted.

Fynta wondered how the Jawa would have reacted if Jorgan had taken off his helmet. They probably would have offered to buy him as an oddity, and Fynta wasn't sure how she would have responded to that. She'd like to think it would have been with professional courtesy, but truthfully, Fynta probably would have bargained with them just to see what price she could get. Jorgan wouldn't have appreciated that.

Fynta kicked her heels into the bantha's sides and Jorgan wrapped an arm around her waist to keep from tipping backwards. It wasn't lost on Fynta that it took him a little longer than was necessary to supposedly regain his balance, even then, the Cathar allowed his hands to remain on her hips. Fynta wasn't complaining.

More than two hours later, Fynta was scanning the cave and surrounding area at maximum magnification through her helmet while Jorgan stared down his sights. "Not a lot of guards. Maybe they've moved them already." He was set up behind a rock, rifle poised but trigger finger relaxed.

"Then what are they guarding?" Fynta asked. She was steadily pushing the bantha forward at a leisurely pace while she laid flat on its back. Hopefully lost in the creature's wooly coat. "This is a mining site, meaning our guys are probably deep inside that mountain with only one way out. If they are being overworked and undernourished, the threat of escape is minimal."

Jorgan growled, one of the deep, gravely kind that originated deep in his chest. Whatever predatory characteristics had evolved out of the Cathar over the last millennia, they had maintained their ability to sound terrifying on a primal level. The sound still sent chills up Fynta's spine and got her heart going.

"I make three at the entrance," he said. "No way of telling how many are inside."

"I guess we should go find out, then." Fynta unslung her rifle, noting with a frown that Jorgan had cleaned it for her again. So all the familiar smudges were gone. She'd accused him once of switching weapons out on her when he returned it to her room after his _inspection_ , but it still felt right in her hands.

"Yes, sir."

Jorgan rejoined Fynta, running alongside, using the bantha for cover. "I think this is as close as we are getting without suspicion. Line up your shots, I've got the guy with the mustache," Fynta said, propping her elbows on the creature's thick spine and targeting her mark through the scope or her rifle.

"I've got the ginger," Jorgan responded.

"Fire when ready." One sniper and one sharpshooter were more than a match for the unsuspecting Imperial guards. The third guy hadn't been able to react fast enough and while Fynta's bolt missed him by an inch, Jorgan's aim had been true.

Fynta slung down from the bantha, who hadn't even flinched when their rifles echoed through the canyon. "They probably don't get many visitors out here," she said as they stepped over the bodies to enter into the darkness beyond.

"We should invite a few of our own. Just to make sure they don't feel left out," Jorgan answered.

Lights dimmed by years of dust accumulation hung suspended from the ceiling every few meters. It made for a gloomy environment and long shadows. The walls had drawings placed sporadically down the tunnel, some of them pornographic. "Good to know that not all Imperials are so classy," Fynta remarked, slowing to examine a particularly imaginative piece of artwork.

Jorgan snorted again, Fynta worried he might blow out his sinuses if he didn't loosen up a little.

Together, they traveled deeper into the winding cave. So far there was just the one passage and still no more guards. Fynta started to worry that maybe Jorgan had been right about the Deadeyes being moved.

"On your feet, scum!" A heavily accented Imperial voice yelled just up ahead, causing Jorgan to quicken his pace.

There was a rounded chamber at the end of the line, one Imperial tent set up to the side, and mining equipment spread around. Fynta noticed four guards and three slaves, one of them was on the ground, a young human male clutching his ribs. Jorgan opened fire immediately, taking out two of the guards but Fynta beat him to the remaining duo. A couple of the slaves rushed to gather their fallen comrade, one of them, a big man with dark skin, even had the foresight to grab one of the fallen guard's weapons and took up defensive positions.

The man on the ground waved his hand at his friends. "Don't, they're ours," he gasped, as they pulled him to his feet. Fynta winced when she and Jorgan got closer. She knew that look, the poor guy had a couple of broken ribs.

Jorgan removed his helmet and grabbed the wounded soldier's arm to help get him the rest of the way up. "On your feet, soldier."

The guy's eyes lit up. "Lieutenant Jorgan? What are you doing here?" Fynta assumed this was Torv, Jorgan's old XO. He had thick black hair, almond shaped eyes, and fit Jorgan's description perfectly.

"We're getting you out of here," Jorgan answered.

Torv's smile turned into a wince when he tried to straighten up too quickly. "Thought we'd been out of here weeks ago." Fynta removed her helmet as well and Torv gave her an expectant look. "Who's this?"

"Whoa!" The big guy with the rifle said. Fynta assumed this was Synon, she'd managed to drag a couple of stories out of Jorgan about the Deadeyes that night they'd all gotten so drunk. "Are those Havoc patches?"

Dorne had insisted on uncovering them after their op with Tavus. She claimed it was more effectual to be recognized by sight. She might have been right. The other male could only be Miev, he was the only Sullustan Jorgan mentioned. Which were unmistakable due to their bulbous, all-black eyes, and the fleshy flap that laid over their noses.

"Torv, boys. Meet the commander of Havoc Squad, Captain Wolfe." Jorgan may have seemed all business, but Fynta saw his shoulders lift. He'd finally decided that being in Havoc Squad wasn't so bad after all.

"Ha, nice sir," Torv said. "You made it into Havoc."

"Jorgan's my XO," Fynta added, which got a few more approving nods, but something kept pulling at the back of her mind. "Lieutenant, you knew someone was coming to rescue you?"

Torv pulled his thin eyebrows together in confusion. "That was part of the plan, wasn't it?"

"Plan." Jorgan had that angry look again, his narrowing to blue slits. "What plan?"

"It's all there in our mission outline. Didn't Zane brief you?" Torv asked, looking between Fynta and Jorgan.

The senior SIS agent's name triggered something almost violent in the Cathar. "Zane? As in _Senior Agent Zane_?" His hands clenched into fists. "Man's been nothing but trouble for us."

"So he didn't. Oh…." Torv put his hands behind his back, wincing slightly, and looked straight ahead. All disconnected soldier. "Then I'm sorry, sir. I can't say anything more. SIS orders."

Fynta decided to try her luck. "What does the SIS have to do with this, Lieutenant?"

Torv still stared straight ahead. "That's classified, sir."

Jorgan took a step closer, towering over his human counterpart. "Out with it, soldier. We're not leaving until we get some answers." Torv transformed before Fynta's eyes from hardened soldier to green XO looking for approval. It was clear he had a lot of respect for Jorgan. Fynta wondered what the Cathar had been like back when he commanded the Deadeyes, before all the responsibility on Ord Mantell, then figured it probably wasn't much different.

The younger sniper sighed, "Okay, look, we let ourselves get caught. Part of some top secret SIS op." Fynta understood the logistics now, but this sort of mission was normally carried out by trained SIS soldiers, not sniper squads. Jorgan crossed his arms while Torv continued.

"They implanted tracking devices in us. The plan was to follow us through Imperial space, find out where the Imps ship their POWs, then swoop in and rescue us."

"Pretty gutsy volunteering for a mission like that." Fynta had done one of those once and it had been gone a lot like this one seemed to be going. Jorgan gave her his, _don't encourage them_ look, but Torv seemed pleased with the praise.

"Would've done the republic a lot of good," Torv agreed. "If it had worked. Nobody anticipated the Imps would split us up and send us to labor details. I'm surprised the SIS didn't spring us then."

Fynta was more surprised that the SIS had sent in inexperienced soldiers in the first place. She decided to test the waters. "Where were you trained for the mission?" Normal SpecForce soldiers were trained to resist torture, however, the SIS went one further. They trained their specially selected soldiers to ignore torture, to turn it around on their interrogator, then escape with more information than they'd given.

Torv's expression went blank as he looked at Fynta, then changed to mildly confused. It was Synon who ended up answering. "They ran us through a three week course on Coruscant, sir."

Fynta nodded. This must have been a rushed mission, because proper training for the SIS wasn't allowed on Republic worlds, hers had been completed in Hutt Space, outside Republic jurisdiction. Her silence must have caught Jorgan's attention because his head snapped around and his eyes narrowed. The Cathar's temper was at a full boil now.

Torv must have sensed it too, because he took a casual step back as Jorgan went into a full on rant. "Typical SIS!" The Cathar pointed at Torv, "You should've known better than to trust those spooks."

Torv stood his ground. "It was too good an opportunity. Do you know how many soldiers we have in those camps?" Fynta was proud of Torv for not backing down, even if she agreed with Jorgan on a base level.

"What if the Imperials had just executed you?" Jorgan asked, his voice echoing off the cavern walls.

Fynta decided to step in before her XO lost his temper completely. "He had good intentions, Jorgan. They just didn't get all the facts."

Jorgan turned his wrath on her, snarling out the words. "Yeah, and it landed him in an Imperial labor camp with no ticket home."

Fynta raised an eyebrow at him. Last thing she wanted to do was pull rank in front of these men. Jorgan's growl softened a fraction at her subtle warning. "You're right. We'll have it out with the SIS later. For now just sit tight and I'll call for an evac." The Cathar sighed as he glanced back at Torv. "We'll get you boys home."

As Jorgan walked off to make the call to Balkar, Torv let out a shaky breath. "He hasn't changed much."

"Don't let the anger fool you," Fynta replied. "He's been looking for you for nearly five months."

"Yeah. The lieutenant's a good guy." Torv smiled, "You've got yourself a good XO, sir."

"He's certainly pulled my shebs out of the fire more than once," Fynta said with a smile. They stood in silence for a few moments, watching Jorgan scowl at the holo image of Balkar. "He takes some getting used to though." Torv snorted a laugh, then winced and wrapped his arm around his torso again.

The evacuation ship was an hour out, so Fynta sat off to the side and listened while Jorgan reminisced with his old squad-mates. At least, until Miev waved her over and made room between himself and Synon. It was nice to hear about some of the antics from when Jorgan was just another sniper, and Torv was his spotter. Fynta found herself grinning openly during a story where Torv had mistaken a reek for the decorative headpiece their target usually wore. Reek didn't go down easy. They had tough hides and big horns. So Torv and Jorgan had to run three klicks to escape its wrath. Fynta could only imagine the hiding Torv got once they were out of danger, shab, maybe even while they were still running.

Once the dropship arrive, Jorgan and Torv shook hands instead of saluting, an act of solidarity between the two men. It was also Jorgan's way of acknowledging Torv as an equal, which seemed to mean a lot to the younger man, whose shoulder's lifted with pride. Fynta couldn't help but smile. Jorgan might be an old grouch, but he was loyal and would do anything for his aliit.

While the medical team checked the remnants of the Deadeyes over, Jorgan walked back to Fynta and leaned against the rock she was sitting on. "Well, they're off. The SIS better have a damn good reason for leaving those men behind."

Fynta had been thinking of the old Havoc Squad. If the Republic kept making mistakes like this, they were going to have a galaxy full of defectors to deal with. "Zane's involved," she said, "Maybe he would like to enlighten us."

Jorgan smirked, "I'm sure he'll have something to say about this rescue op of ours. Anyway, we've done all we can for now. I'll see about getting the rest of those coordinates encrypted."

Balkar swaggered down the ramp of the evac ship and grinned. "Captain! Want a ride?" Had anyone else asked that question, it might have been innocent. There was nothing innocent about anything Jonas Balkar said and Fynta had to really concentrate on suppressing her flirty response.

"Great," Jorgan muttered.

Fynta thumped his chest plate as she hopped off the rock. "Come on. Maybe we can get back before our leave is completely spent. One more night in that bed?" She winked at Jorgan before walking towards the shuttle.

 **Anchorhead  
** **Day 4 of leave**

Jorgan and Fynta met the two SIS agents in the hangar lounge next to the Thunderclap at Fynta's request. She seemed exceptionally anxious to get back. As promised, Balkar was waiting with that annoying smile on his face, same as always.

"Congratulations on a job well done, Captain."

"Yeah," Prelon said, leaning back in one of the chairs, "Your friend got me out with all limbs intact, guess that means I owe you twenty credits, huh?" He wasn't wearing Imperial colors anymore. Jorgan bet he'd burned them.

Balkar made an exaggerated bow towards Fynta, "Ah, Captain. You brighten my day, fatten my bank account, and gun down Imps like maimed banthas. Marry me when the war is over."

Jorgan bristled. For all Fynta's assurances that Balkar's charms had no effect on her, the blasted woman certainly smiled a lot when he was around. "We'll stick to drinks for now."

Balkar winked. "I keep trying."

"All right, all right. Knock it off, kids," Garn said. "We've got business to discuss." He gestured for everyone to take a seat around the table. "The Gauntlet, the Emperor's new superweapon, is a giant cannon built into the frame of an Imperial Battle Cruiser." Prellon held up a finger, "But, it's no ordinary weapon. The Gauntlet can fire on ships moving through hyperspace where they're completely helpless. Warships go down in one shot."

Jorgan sat straight in his chair, "Do you know the effective range? Is it mobile?"

"Range is high, but not infinite," Garn answered. "It can hit anything in the same star system." _That's a big cannon._ "It's not mobile yet, but that's their goal. I've got a full report ready. Once Jonas gets me to a secure terminal, I'll send the details to General Garza." He stood and stuck out his hand, shaking each of theirs in turn. "Thanks again, Captain."

Jonas waited until Garn was out of sight and looked at Fynta, all traces of playfulness gone, "You'd better head back to Coruscant, Captain. Garza will have Prellon's report by the time you get there and I'm sure she'll want to keep Havoc Squad in the loop."

Fynta sighed, "What have you gotten me into this time, Jonas."

"We'll call it payback for Tepasi," Jonas winked again. "Seriously, though. This is one party I won't mind seeing the end of."

 **Thunderclap  
** **Day 4 of Leave**

"I'd like a shower and a hot meal," Fynta said when they were back in hyperspace. It's what she requested after every op; the captain was a woman of simple pleasures. Over the course of the last year Jorgan had grown accustomed to the shared refreshers. The showers had stalls, and while they were only head height, if he stayed at one end and the women at the other, they all had some privacy.

"You know," Fynta called out over the noise of running water. She'd only put one empty stall between them, claiming it cut down on the yelling required. Jorgan had another theory, of course. "As far as extractions go, that wasn't bad. Two in one cycle and no new injuries or dings in the armor."

Jorgan could just see the tops of her shoulders over the stall, but he'd always been fascinated by the amount of effort managing that long hair of hers required. She was on her third rinse in an attempt to get the sand out, but for all her complaining, Fynta wouldn't part with it.

"Figured you'd be disappointed." His own grooming didn't take half the time as hers, but Jorgan enjoyed the hot water, and the company. "Dorne will be pleased. Did you tell them where we were going?"

Fynta wiped the water from her eyes and face to look over at him. "No. I didn't want to ruin their leave and honestly, I didn't want to knock on their door." Cormac was the type to answer naked on purpose. Jorgan wondered briefly how the captain would have responded.

"Food time," she said, shutting the water off. Since it was just the two of them on board, Fynta wrapped a towel around herself and tucked it in at the top before grabbing the rest of her gear and heading for the door. Jorgan watched her walk out despite his best efforts to keep his eyes to himself.

Fynta was sitting at the small table in her PTs when Jorgan joined her, just shorts and a loose fitting shirt, picking over something lumpy with her fork. She was reading through the messages on her datapad with one leg pulled up so her knee was even with her shoulder. Jorgan thought women had the strangest notion of what made a comfortable sitting position.

"Listen to this," Fynta said without looking up, "It's a message from Garza, it's titled, _Retired Commander Haron Tavus Dead:_

_Hero of the Great War, defender of Coruscant during the Great Siege, and decorated Special Forces Commander Haron Tavus passed away due to complications from an old wound in the line of duty._

_Tavus had been in declining health since his recent retirement from active duty. His final assignment involved suppressing violent separatist activity on Ord Mantell. Senior officials, including Supreme Chancellor Janarus and General Garza, have issued statements commemorating Tavus's lifetime of service and mourning the loss of one of the Republic's most noted heroes. Funeral services are being kept private at this time._

Fynta leaned back, tossing the datapad onto the table. "That's brilliant." Then she looked at him, "It's not even a lie."

"The Republic's got to save face," Jorgan commented while rummaging through the ration packs.

"Think we'll ever be left behind?" Fynta asked absently, leaning forward again to scroll through the rest of her messages.

Jorgan had considered that too. It happened more than he thought. The bureaucrats had little invested in the in the lives of simple soldiers, but Jorgan knew who he was and turned to face his commanding officer. "I won't let that happen, sir."

"I know you won't, Jorgan. Still…" Fynta trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.

Jorgan finally chose a meal at random and sat across from Fynta while it heated. "Then I'll come back for you." He'd meant it innocently enough, just to ease her discomfort. The look she gave him was startling, though. Fynta's eyes were wide and she simply stared at him.

"Oh." Jorgan leaned to the side to grab a gift from his pocket. He'd warred with himself for a while on when would be the right time to give it to her, not even sure if she'd like it. Jorgan figured he'd never know unless he tried. "I never properly congratulated you on your promotion. You've come a long way since Ord Mantell. We should find some time when we get back to celebrate. I mean. You and me."

Fynta frowned down at her food. "You could make me dinner."

Jorgan chuckled. "You wouldn't enjoy that. I spent the last ten years living off field rations. I got you something, though." He placed the box on the table between them, opting for the straightforward approach because Jorgan knew he'd fail miserably otherwise.

Fynta reached across the table to pick it up, raising a questioning eyebrow in the process. When she pulled off the lid, Jorgan rushed into an explanation. "Bought the stone off a trader a few years back, had a Theelin jeweler fit it for me last time we had some shore leave." Jorgan watched as Fynta lifted the gold chain from the silky pillow within the plain white. "Thought it would look nice on you." Jorgan cringed at how awkward he sounded.

Fynta met his eyes and Jorgan knew he'd made the right call. Then, she defused the tension with a joke, like she always did. "Maybe next time you can get me something more practical," she teased, reaching back to clasp the sturdy chain around her neck. "Like thermite."

Jorgan matched her smirk. "Oh? And what makes you think there's going to be a next time?"

"Because once you start giving a girl gifts, you've got to keep it up, didn't you know that, Lieutenant?" Fynta winked at him, but continued turning the small, white stone in her fingers, watching the subtle colors that shifted in the light. "I got you something too. But it isn't ready yet, so you'll just have to agonize over what it might be." Fynta glanced back up at him with a sly smile, "You got promoted too, remember? Maybe _I'll_ cook _you_ dinner."

"You cook?"

"I am a Mando'ade woman," Fynta said it as if that explained everything. She gave an exasperated sigh when Jorgan shrugged. "Once a woman has a child, her duty is to her home and clan. She stays home and protects the family while the man is off fighting wars or doing whatever. That involves all the gardening, cleaning, hunting, cooking, and usually plenty of shooting. Mandalore isn't Coruscant. So my mother taught me everything I would need to know."

The thought of her cooking and cleaning amused Jorgan. "Think you'll have children one day?" He wasn't sure why he asked other than the fact that he didn't know the answer. The Cathar could see her as a mom, teaching her child how to break down a blaster for cleaning. Then again, Jorgan could also imagine her remaining in the military until retirement.

Fynta's smile slipped a little. "No. I don't think so." Jorgan wasn't sure if he should ask, but she saved him the trouble. "My brother and I ran with the Black Sun for a while. The things that go on in their headquarters…." She shivered and toyed with the necklace while she spoke, avoiding Jorgan's eyes. "Anyway, as a form of insurance, I had myself sterilized."

Jorgan swallowed past the lump in his throat. There was no mistaking the regret in Fynta's voice. He remembered how edgy she had been while they were in Black Sun territory on Coruscant, how she acted more aggressively towards the people there. Everything suddenly made sense.

Fynta sighed and folded her hands on the table, finally looking up at Jorgan. "Verin was furious when he found out, of course. It was the only time I've ever seen my brother cry. He knew what I'd given up." A sad smile pulled at her lips. "He killed a couple of their guys, and we went on the run."

"What you'd given up?" Jorgan wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he couldn't stop himself from asking.

"A Mandalorian's family is everything. Our family is our afterlife." Her voice was softer, almost vulnerable. "As long as someone remembers us, we live on. Who will remember you if not your children?"

More pieces were starting to fall into place. Fynta shrugged. "Anyway, I was young and stupid. I joined the Republic military the next year."

Jorgan now understood why Fynta could be so reckless at times. She felt she had nothing to lose. When she died, she would be forgotten, so why not meet death head on. The only problem was, death didn't seem to want to meet Fynta. "What ever happened to Verin?"

"He met a nice bounty hunter. They're married now, and currently hunting their way across the galaxy. We keep in touch to ensure our objectives aren't going to overlap. You don't kill aliit, no matter what."

"Aliit is family, right?"

"I'm rubbing off on you, aren't I?" Fynta said with a teasing smile. She was, and Jorgan wasn't so sure that was a bad thing. Mandalorians were supposed to be cold blooded killers, adulterers, rapist, thieves, and many other vile things that could be prosecuted in court. However, the image he got from Fynta was that family meant everything, loyalty was prized above all other currency, and they had a deep, rich culture that had lasted a millennia.

Looking to change the subject, Jorgan gestured to her tattoo. "What about that?" He'd always been curious about it. Why anyone, especially someone who worked with the SIS, would make such a memorable mark on their face.

Fynta leaned her elbows on the table and tapped her cheek with her finger, "Got this on Orvax IV."

"The slave planet?" Jorgan had heard of it, everyone had. The Imperial slave planet made a tempting target, but it was deep in Imperial space. Right up next to Hutt space. Basically, it was untouchable.

Fynta shrugged. "It wasn't planned, but it's grown on me. I was a plant to get an idea of how their system worked. Being a twenty-two year old human female meant I had a chance at being picked up by one of the big guys. Took nearly a week to do it though, and the T'surr guard got bored."

This topic wasn't much better than the previous, and Aric considered all the ways he'd make her supervisor pay for sending a twenty-two year old into that hell hole. Fynta had led a life full of hardship, pain, and suffering. Yet here she was, commander of Havoc Squad and respected Republic soldier. She was a good woman too, with a compassionate heart and a fiercely protective instinct. A prize for any man who managed to catch her eye. As he watched her sitting across from the table, smiling down at the little jewel, Jorgan thought about how long they had both been alone. About the way Fynta had always given with no expectations in return. Another crack splintered across Jorgan's resolve and he thought, _why not_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> udesiir [oo-DAY-seer] relax, take it easy, calm down, find respite
> 
> Fierfek [FIRE-fek] a Huttese slang word that meant "hex" or "curse," but was commonly accepted to mean "poison" by non-Huttese-speaking races. Later adopted as an expletive.
> 
> shebs [shebs] backside, rear, buttocks
> 
> shab - excrement (used as a curse)
> 
> aliit (clan) [ah-LEET] family
> 
> Mando'ade [Mando-AH-day] Mandalorians (pl) - sons and/ or daughters of Mandalore
> 
> aliit (clan) [ah-LEET] family


	18. Balmorran Contract

**410 Days after Ord Mantell  
****Coruscant**  

Fynta met Jorgan outside the Senate Tower. “I sent Dorne and Cormac to ready the ship,” Fynta said as the Cathar fell into step beside her. Havoc Squad had been on Coruscant for two nights. The last of which, Fynta had spent cloistered in her hotel room attempting to reach Cinlat and Verin. The HoloNet News had run a breaking story about a new threat to the Republic. Famed bounty hunter Cinlat Ejnar had been pushed to the top of the Republic’s Most Wanted List. According to the report, Cinlat had killed a couple of Jedi and was on some kind of rampage. Neither had answered Fynta’s calls. She would have a few choice words for her brother when she finally caught up with him.

“No luck?” Jorgan asked, as they passed under the massive archway that lead into the Senate Tower.

Fynta sighed, “No, they wouldn’t answer.” That bothered her more than she wanted to admit. Avoidance was a sign of guilt. Not that Fynta had any protective feelings towards Jedi, but it was so out of character to the two bounty hunters. “Something doesn’t add up.”

Jorgan and Fynta entered the general’s office and stood side by side at a respectful distance to wait for Garza’s signal to approach. The two men with her wore high ranking officer uniforms with badges and ribbons attached to every available inch of fabric on their grey jackets. A pale skinned Zabrak male, only two horns, one on either side of his head, and nearly orange eyes, wore the dark blue of a naval officer around his collar. If Fynta remembered Navy ranks correctly, he was an admiral.

The other was a human male with grey-shot brown hair, beard, and dark blue eyes. No doubt this man was Army. Then a memory of the pink Twi’lek from Ord Mantell sprung to the surface, she couldn’t remember his name but he’d told her about the convoy bombs after threatening to report Fort Garnik to her boss’s boss.  Well, here he was. Fynta loved irony.

While they waited, Fynta spared a glance at Jorgan without turning her head. He looked almost as good in his fatigues as he did in his armor and the view did wonders for her mood. She’d pretty much accepted that Jorgan was the guy for her, she just had to wait until he figured out his own feelings on the matter. Which he seemed to be taking his sweet time doing.

Fynta’s inappropriate musings must have been apparent, because Jorgan slid his eyes over to her in that roguish way that always made her feel like grinning. Fynta raised an eyebrow when she turned to meet his gaze, giving an innocent shrug. Jorgan wouldn’t move his head, but the corner of his mouth rose just a fraction.

“Ah, Captain, you’ve arrived,” Garza waved them forward, put an end to their silent teasing. “I trust your mission on Skor II went well?”

 _Time to get back to work._ Fynta cleared her mind with some effort and saluted. “It did, General. We were able to catch up with some old friends.” Havoc had spent the last four months tracking down the SpecForce traitors who’d managed to slip through the Republic’s net after their assault on Tavus. Skor II was just the most recent, and strangest. The planet sported drastically new climate in every region. They’d finally caught up with Major Selmh in the arctic region, he’d had frostbite, a sunburn, and a severe rash that even Dorne refused to investigate until she took proper biohazard protocols. Fynta had been all too happy to put the man out of his misery.

“Splendid news,” The older woman smiled, then gestured to the two men, “This is Fleet Admiral Numinn, head of the Republic Navy’s Fifth Assault Fleet.” The Zabrak inclined his head in a polite nod. “And Supreme Commander Rans, overall head of Republic Armed Forces,” Garza went on.

“We’ve both heard a great deal about you, Captain,” the human with the salt and pepper hair added. Fynta and Jorgan stood at attention in acknowledgement of each of the commanders. 

Garza continued, “Given our current circumstances, Fleet Admiral Numinn and Supreme Commander Rans have come here to plan a full-scale joint operation to deal with the Gauntlet Superweapon.” She tapped on her datapad and an image of a Star Destroyer with its iconic wedge shape, appeared on the holotable. “A single operational Gauntlet device gives the Empire a decisive advantage, but Agent Garn’s report revealed the enemy’s true plan. Mass production,” Garza added. That didn’t surprise Fynta, if she thought she had an ace in the hole, she’d want to mass produce it too. They’d pulled SIS agent Prelion Garn out of an Imperial crash back on Tatooine a few months back. So far, he was the only SIS agent that didn’t incite a snarl from Jorgan.

Rans nodded. “If the Gauntlet prototype is completed and the Empire succeeds in producing more of them; we’re doomed. The entire Republic would be conquered in a matter of weeks.” This guy didn’t mess around. The Republic was looking at a worst case scenario and the brass wasn’t even attempting to deny it.

“There must be something we can do to stop this thing,” Fynta said. “Just give my squad a location and we’ll make it happen.” She didn’t believe anything was impenetrable or untouchable.

“Destroying the Gauntlet will require a coordinated Naval and Infantry strike on an unprecedented scale. Our forces must begin preparing now,” Commander Rans nodded to both of the commanders at his side. Thus far, Admiral Numinn had been quiet on the subject. He studied the holo intently with his chin cupped in his hand.

“In the midst of the assault we’re planning, a single commando team will board the Gauntlet and sabotage it from within. We’ve chosen Havoc Squad to carry out this task.” Garza stood a little straighter before continuing, “Your team will need to be expanded. You’ll need a technical specialist and an explosives expert.” Fynta kept her face expressionless, though inwardly she cringed at having to tell Cormac he was losing the title of head explosives guy.

“The General and I have scoured the entire Republic personnel database to locate the two most highly qualified specialists available,” Rans added.

Garza pulled out her datapad. “Both men are engaged in active operations. The first one is on Balmorra, extract him and report in at once.” Fynta’s datapad buzzed with the incoming information but she ignored it. “Now, the sooner Havoc Squad is at full strength, the sooner we can begin the assault on the Gauntlet. Dismissed.” The two commanders and Garza turned their attention back to the holotable and Fynta and Jorgan slipped out.

Fynta leaned against the railing outside and pulled out her datapad. Jorgan leaned next to her, silently looking over her shoulder as she scrolled through the new recruits. Fynta tried to focus on the report while being completely aware of his shoulder pressing into the back of her own. When he shifted suddenly, Fynta looked back to see his eyes had narrowed. She had a fraction of a second to look around before none other than Jonas Balkar slid up on Fynta’s other side.

“Heya, doll. Fancy meeting you here.” The SIS agent nudged her playfully with his shoulder.

“Stalking me now, Balker?” Fynta teased. She knew Jorgan didn’t like the man, but that didn’t mean she had to hate him. Jonas Balkar was a fun guy to be around.

Balkar shrugged as he turned to lean his back and elbows against the banister, completely ignoring Jorgan. “Ah, well, rumor had it a sexy blond in heavy army was storming towards the spaceport.” His eyes slid over her fatigues and Fynta found herself aware of Jorgan’s angry breathing.

“I’d hate to keep you from the sexy blonde,” Fynta smirked, attempting to steer Jonas towards safer waters.

“I find myself distracted at present.” Jonas finally spared a quick glance over Fynta’s head at Jorgan before turning back to her, “You know you’re my favorite SpecForce spy.” He leaned a little closer to whisper, “And I’ve cracked more of your file. I find it all . . . intriguing.” Jorgan growled behind her, a sound that resonated deep in his throat, while Fynta searched for a way to regain control of the conversation.

Balkar never took his eyes from hers. “Maybe you can catch a drink with me while the rest of your crew readies the ship.” Meaning he wanted her to send Jorgan away. Fynta really needed to know if he was bluffing about getting into her file. Mostly because it was supposed to be completely sealed.

Fynta glanced over her shoulder and tried to keep her voice playful while staring into to Jorgan’s hard, blue eyes. “Go on back and help the others, I’ll be there shortly.” Shock wasn’t the first emotion she expected to see cross his angry features and she had to admit it hurt a little. Then the scowl returned full force.

“Yes, sir,” Jorgan snarled, locking eyes with Jonas and pointing a finger at him. “She better come back in one piece this time.” With that, Jorgan turned and stormed off. A mixture of emotions swirled through Fynta as she watched him go.

“That guy’s got a thing for you, Captain.” Jonas was back to his normal, charismatic self when she turned back around.

Fynta changed the subject, making sure to keep Jorgan out of it. “So who let you off Nar Shaddaa?”

Jonas slung an arm over her shoulder, his fingers toying with the braid that lay there. “Come on, doll. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

 **The Thunderclap**  

Jorgan was reassembling the last rifle in the armory, having just finished cleaning them all for the second time when Fynta leaned against the doorway. “Cleaned them all again, huh?” Jorgan felt the muscles in his arms tighten as he gripped the charge pack. He could smell the mixture of smoke, alcohol, and Balker on her and felt an involuntary snarl building in his throat.

“Have a good time with Balker?” Jorgan slammed the last charge pack into the rifle and replaced it on the rack with the others. He’d flashed her comm nearly an hour earlier to alert her that the ship was ready to leave. It had been difficult not to imagine what was causing her delayed response. Jorgan stood from the desk at the back of the small armory and turned to leave.

Fynta blocked his path, hands on hips and eyes narrowed. “Got something you want to say, soldier?”

Jorgan had a lot of things he wanted to say, and probably none of them what she wanted to hear. So he crossed his arms and stared down at her. “What’s the deal with you and Balker?” Jorgan wanted a straight forward, honest answer this time. Because for all Fynta’s assurances that there was nothing between her and the SIS agent, she tended to run off with him a lot.

“Jealous?” Fynta asked as she shifted her weight to the side so she could reach behind her to slide the heavy door shut, sealing them in the armory.

Jorgan wasn’t in the mood to be playful, he wasn’t even sure why he was angry. “Doubt there’s a woman in all of Hutt Space or the Core Worlds he hasn’t _charmed_. You can do better.” His hands were balled into fists where they were tucked against his body.

Fynta gave a mirthless laugh, “Yeah, I keep trying.” She closed the gap between them in one step and put her finger to Jorgan’s chest, defiance raging in her dark blue eyes. The hard set of her jaw told Jorgan that she didn’t plan on backing down. Fynta was close enough for him to smell the wine on her breath and to tell that Balkar’s scent was on her clothing, not her skin. That revelation loosened the tight knot in his stomach. Fynta was still glaring up at him when she spoke again. “You’ve got a better prospect for me? Let’s hear it.”

“Fine,” Jorgan growled, wrapping an arm around her waist and hauled her through the space between them to press his lips against hers. He hadn’t thought about it, simply reacted on impulse to the fear of losing her to another man.

Fynta’s mouth was hungry on his and her body felt right in his hands. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him with enough force to stagger him backwards into the weapon’s rack. Jorgan instinctively threw his left arm back, smashing into the rifles he’d just cleaned. They clattered to the floor, forcing the two to break apart to keep from joining weapons. Jorgan had managed to keep them upright, propped against the wall with his legs tangled in the rack, while Fynta leaned against chest, a startled expression on her face.

Jorgan could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he and Fynta surveyed the mess around them. Then she started laughing in earnest. Fynta pushed herself straight, then hauled him upright by the collar of his shirt since his hands were still pressed against the wall. When she looked back up at him, Jorgan could still see the ravenous light in her eye. “Yeah, I think I could live with that one,” she added in a sultry voice that sent a prickle of excitement down his spine.

“Good thing we weren’t standing by the grenades,” he added.

Fynta snorted another laugh, then her eyebrows came together as she rubbed a finger along the inside of her lower lip. It came away red and her grin widened. “We’ll have to be careful about that next time,” she said in a teasing voice as she held her finger up for his inspection. One of his teeth must have caught her lip when he stumbled. Fynta wiped her hand on her pants and grabbed the door handle, “Anything else, Lieutenant?” Her voice was light and playful with an undertone of desire. Jorgan was sorely tempted to tell her to just lock the door.

“I think I’ve said my piece,” he replied, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

Fynta gave him a head to toe scan, as usual, and smiled. “Get these picked up, I’m going to take us out.” She opened the door just enough for her to slip through, then looked back, “Good talk, Jorgan.” After a wink, Fynta disappeared, leaving him in the armory with freshly scrubbed down rifles and blasters littering the floor. Jorgan smiled to himself, there was no truer representation of his relationship with Fynta Wolfe.

Ten minutes later, Jorgan sat in the conference room with Fynta and Cormac. His brain still reeled from their collision in armory; it couldn’t be called anything else. His senses were heightened and his heart still hadn’t returned to a normal rhythm. Jorgan figured a redo was in order. Something a little more romantic, maybe less painful, but there would never be a more memorable first kiss.

“What if he’s prettier than me?” Cormac asked, bringing Aric back to the conversation. The big man was munching on a few candies and junk food that he had managed to smuggle past C2. 

“No one’s prettier than you, Cormac,” Fynta assured him without looking up from her disassembled blaster. Everyone in Havoc squad kept their weapons immaculate and the table in the briefing room was the easier place to spread the pieces out. 

“Not even Jorgan?” The man grinned. 

Fynta raised her eyes, letting them slide over Jogan, head tilted to the side and a playful smile on her lips, before focusing on Cormac “Jorgan is more mature, but you’re still the pretty one.” The big man roared in laughter and Fynta winked. 

“Sir.” Dorne entered the room and took a seat next to her lover, datapad in her hands where it always could be found. “I received a message from Aleksie, he says they are letting him visit a few of the monuments around Coruscant tomorrow. He’s quite excited.” Balkar had come through for them, having found Elara’s brother in time to save him from the Hutts and accept his defection over to the Republic. The woman smiled more now that Cormac had joined the crew. He had brought Elara Dorne out of her shell in a way no one else could have. 

“I’ll bet. I’m going to make the time to do that one day,” Jorgan added. Seeing the old monuments from before Coruscant was completely covered by buildings had been on his bucket list for a while. 

“As many times as I’ve been to Coruscant and I’ve never been to them either,” Fynta added. 

“You’d be welcome to join me, sir,” Jorgan added as casually as he could manage. 

Fynta smiled at him as she ran the oilcloth over the metal parts of her blaster. “I’ll take you up on that, Lieutenant,” she replied, looking at him through the barrel. Jorgan just shook his head and went back to reading. 

“Sir.” Dorne was staring at Fynta, her face perfectly smooth. “What happened to your lip? It’s swollen.” She was right, because Elara Dorne never missed a detail. The spot where Jorgan’s tooth cut Fynta’s lip was puffy and red. He averted his eyes, studying his datapad with a little too much enthusiasm. 

Fynta touched it absently, “Cut it on something.” She spared Jorgan a sly glance before looking back towards Dorne. 

It wasn’t sly enough though, because Cormac’s mouth dropped open and he stared from Fynta to Jorgan. “No.” Then that stupid grin spread over his face and Jorgan knew he would never hear the end of this. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with that mess in the armory, would it?” 

Dorne looked at her partner. “What mess?” 

“Jorgan and I accidently knocked over one of the blaster racks,” Fynta explained and Cormac’s stupid grin got bigger. 

“You know,” Cormac leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, “Those racks are pretty sturdy. Had to be something pretty spectacular to knock over one of those.” 

Fynta matched his grin with her raised eyebrow. “Spectacular indeed.” Cormac took the hint to drop it, but he didn’t stop smiling. The conversation turned towards Balmorra and the newest Havoc recruit again. Their target was a Weequay named Tanno Vik who’d been dishonorably discharged more than a year earlier. No one was particularly happy about him joining the squad. 

Jorgan caught Fynta’s confused expression in his peripheral. She was staring at her wrist comm where a small red light blinked. The only problem was that they were still in hyperspace. Comms shouldn’t work right now. She looked around the table, smiled when Jorgan met her gaze, then quietly stood and slipped out the door. Jorgan thought it was strange, but couldn’t come up with a suitable excuse to follow her to see what was going on.

Nearly ten minutes passed before Cormac brought up Fynta’s absence. The ship shuddered, signaling that they were dropping out of hyperspace. “What the—” Cormac folded the bag of candy coated fruit closed and started towards the door. Fynta met him just outside and ushered the big man back into the conference room.

“Okay troops, change of plan.” 

“What’s going on?” Jorgan asked. 

“I’ve received an SOS from one of our fellow SpecForce soldiers, seems she’s accidentally stumbled across a massive POW prison. We’ve been called in to liberate them.” 

“So no criminal squadmate?” Cormac perked up. 

Fynta frowned, “Unfortunately we still have to pick up Vik, so we’ll have to sort this out quickly. I’ve got another squad handling Vik.” 

“Sir…” Dorne tilted her head to one side, “How did you receive the SOS while we were in route?” Elara could always be depended on to pick up on the most important details. 

Fynta hesitated, which was unusual. Normally the captain was completely open. “The original request didn’t come through official channels, but I’ve confirmed it with Garza,” Fynta said finally. “The threat is real, but as you pointed out, most comm systems don’t work in hyperspace. A contact of mine who happens to have one that does, intercepted the message, and forwarded it to me.” 

Jorgan knew about tech that worked in hyperspace. He also knew how expensive it was. The only people he could think of that might have that kind of funds available to them were SIS. Another question popped into Jorgan’s mind then, “You have control of another squad?” 

This time, Fynta smiled. It was the one she used when she’d found a loophole in an impenetrable contract. “You’ve all read Vik’s file?” They nodded. Jorgan wasn’t thrilled about bringing a man with that kind of rap-sheet into the squad. Especially not with two women. “Well, seems it’s more important for Havoc to save the lives of over three hundred fellow soldiers than award a criminal with a place of honor.” She crossed her arms, still grinning. “So my brother’s going to swing by and pick him up for us.” 

Jorgan gaped at her, “You’re sending bounty hunters after him.” 

Cormac slapped his thigh and guffawed. “Captain, if I weren’t already on retainer, I’d marry you.” 

“As appealing as the offer is, I’m not taking Dorne on. She has access to sedatives and sharp objects.” Fynta winked at Elara. 

“I agree our time could be better spent elsewhere,” Dorne replied, ignoring the banter around her, “But I’m surprised General Garza agreed to allow bounty hunters access to such valuable information.” 

“Garza just said to get it done and don’t cause a problem for her. She didn’t want to know the details, and I didn’t offer,” Fynta replied. 

Dorne nodded, “I suppose that makes sense. Who is the SpecForce soldier?” 

Fynta’s smile slipped. “Sergeant Ava Jaxo.”

  **Orbit over Balmorra  
****D-5 Mantis**  

“Why are we going after this guy again?” Verin had his feet propped on the console, reading a datapad, while Cinlat made their final approach. 

She smacked his leg when he bumped one of the stabilizer switches. “Because you promised Fynta we’d take care of it.” That, and work had been scarce lately. They’d finally caught up with that Republic Chancellor and he’d admitted to being hoodwinked by a Jedi with a vendetta. 

Cinlat had apparently killed the Jedi’s friend during her first Great Hunt. She remembered him, he’d been her final target, her first Jedi kill. Cinlat had let the Padawan go, though. It had been a mistake because that Padawan had found his friend, who’d spent the next ten years coming up with a plan to ruin Cinlat’s life.All in all, it was kind of dark for the peace lovers. 

In the end, she and Verin had managed to blackmail the Chancellor into clearing her name. The man had even wiped out a few of the offenses she’d actually been guilty of, but Cinlat didn’t plan on protesting. 

“Assault, theft, extortion, one count murder. . .” Verin pulled his feet back and tossed the datapad in place with a huff, startling Cinlat from her thoughts. “What the shab does my little sister want with a chakaar like that?” 

Cinlat shrugged. Fynta’s life was top secret and she’d become good at dodging their sources. Most of what Cinlat and Verin heard about her missions were on the holonews like everyone else. The best they could do was stay out of each other’s way and lend a helping hand where possible. Like with that SpecForce transmission they’d picked up. Verin had sent Fynta a text only message since she still seemed a little peeved about not being told they were in trouble. 

“I worry about her, Cin. How is she ever going to meet a good man if these are the people she’s being forced to live with?” Verin snorted, “She joined the army to get away from osik like him.” 

Cinlat set the Mantas down in the appointed hanger. It was a nice one thanks to the Republic codes Fynta had transmitted. “Fynta’s a big girl, Verin. She can handle herself.” 

Verin muttered something unintelligible. Cinlat rolled her eyes and grabbed her helmet, Verin was right behind her. “Maybe she’s grabbing him for execution?” 

“Maybe.” Though, Cinlat doubted it. Fynta sounded pretty adamant that Vik was to be delivered alive and unharmed, for the most part. Alive and fully functional was the phrase she’d actually used. That left a lot to interpretation. 

The two bounty hunters wore their helmets to every client meeting because Cinlat didn’t fancy her face being plastered all over the wanted ads again. Armor was easy enough to disguise, but her white eyes and matching hair were memorable. Thankfully, Ardon, the head honcho of the resistance, wasn’t hard to track down and even less interested in their presence in his ops room. 

“Oh look, it’s one of our dependable friends from the Republic,” the man said, pausing his holocall to face her and Verin. Ardon had a shaved head and a face aged by toil and responsibility. Not to mention a bad attitude and a severe lack of occupational awareness. 

Cinlat wouldn’t trouble him with details, especially since Fynta had only given them as much information as needed to complete the job: the planet, the target, Republic codes, and the contact. “I’m here to speak with Tanno Vik. Do you know where I can find him?” 

Ardon snorted. “Yeah, General Garza sent me a message explaining everything. I’ve got Vik’s current assignment details right here.” He handed her the datapad and crossed his arms. Cinlat now had the name of Fynta’s boss, not that it mattered, but she’d make sure to pay attention if Garza ever ended up on the news. “Glad to hear the Republic’s finest aren’t here to help,” Ardon went on whining. “Just here to take away one of my best men.  We’re honored. Really.” 

Cinlat looked up from the datapad and at the man in silence, wondering how long it would take him to figure it out. Ardon still didn’t take note of the fact that they weren’t wearing Republic colors, displayed no ranks, and were staring at him through the traditional T-shaped visor of a Mandalorian. This guy was an or'dinii, a complete and total moron. 

“Vik is taking one of our teams on a patrol run.” Ardon went on without missing a beat. “Their next stop is our signal interception post. You can catch up with him there.” The man waved his hands in dismissal before turning his back on them, normally a stupid move, but Cinlat had promised to play nice. “Now, if that’s all, there are real soldiers who need my time.” 

Verin and Cinlat turned as one to to leave. Verin opened their comm lines and gave a bewildered chuckle. “No wonder the resistance in losing.” 

* * *

A few hours later, Cinlat found herself crammed inside a comms tower box. The Imps had done a thorough job of messing up the relays. Cinlat spliced two more wires together, hopefully the last in an annoyingly large bundle of cables. “Almost done,” she called up to Verin, who was standing guard above her.

 “I don’t see why we didn’t just move on,” Verin complained. 

“One: we promised Fynta we’d behave.” Cinlat leaned out of the cramped space at the bottom of the tower, “Those techs didn’t stand a chance, they’d be dead within the hour.” Apparently, Vik had shown up shortly before them and absconded with the Republic technician’s security detail, leaving them cut off and vulnerable. “And two: they paid us.” 

“You’ve got a heart of gold, cyare _._ ” 

Cinlat punched the side of Verin’s leg and replaced the cover on the comm tower. “Ma’am? We’ve got something you might be interested in seeing. Patch it through?” One of the techs asked. 

“Go ahead.” 

So far, she’d been playing the part of the good soldier. Although she was pretty sure the two techs were smarter than their commander. They weren’t going to look a pair of able bodied hands in the shebs, though, so they continued treating Cinlat like she really was a Republic soldier. 

“Sending now, it’s a holo from Vik,” the man said. 

Cinlat’s HUD registered the information download and Tanno Vik’s gravelly voice filled her helmet, “…a dangerous mission. No doubt about that. To be honest, a lot of you probably won’t make it back.” 

“How’s that for a pep talk,” Verin muttered. 

“Of course, if you ask the guys up top, they’d never admit to ordering this mission. That’s how it is in this business. But, we’re not here for glory or credits, we’re here to save Balmorra. Step one is Sobrik. Once we have what we need there, it’ll be a straight shot to our objective.” 

“Where’s Sobrik?” Cinlat asked, ignoring Verin. 

“Sobrik is an Imperial occupied city, one of their main bases of operation on Balmorra. Maybe you can catch up with him there. I’m sending the coordinates,” the human tech answered. 

“Thanks,” Verin answered while Cinlat studied the map. 

“Good luck. Hope you find the bugger.” The tech signed off their frequency and Verin hauled Cinlat to her feet. With a sigh, the huntress realized she probably should have asked for a few more details before saying yes to this particular score. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a: 
> 
> shab - excrement (used as a curse)
> 
> chakaar [chah-KAR] corpse robber, thief, petty criminal - general term of abuse
> 
> osik [OH-sik] dung (impolite)
> 
> cyare [SHAH-ray] beloved, loved, popular


	19. Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This whole quest was highly lackluster in the game, so, I took it down a little bit of a darker path. I considered leaving the choice in the mix, but it honestly didn't flow the way I wanted it too and since I skipped over most of the side quests involving Jaxo in this story (mostly for time/chapter length), there really wasn't any emotional connection to her. Everyone loves a little chaos now and then, right?

**The Thunderclap  
On approach to A-77**

Fynta killed the drives and vaulted over the back of her seat, not an easy thing in full beskar'gam, but she made it look natural. Jorgan found her standing in front of the holo when he emerged from the bridge. Cormac and Dorne were already leaning against the wall outside the medbay. "Havoc Squad calling Sergeant Jaxo. Come in Jaxo."

An image flickered briefly, cut out, then solidified to reveal a young woman with shoulder length black hair and a prison uniform. "It's you, it's really you." Jaxo's voice was pure relief. "I must have done something right." It was hard to tell through the broken image, but the sergeant looked unharmed.

"I'm glad you're hanging in there, Jaxo," Fynta said, but Jorgan could hear the tightness in her voice and see the tension in Dorne's shoulders. The women were friends, having messaged one another often in the weeks since their girl's night out during Havoc's last shore leave on Coruscant. More than once Jorgan and Cormac had been waved out of Fynta's room so the three could chat over the holo in relative privacy.

"Yeah, just barely," Jaxo responded. "Listen, from here I can short out the exterior defense grid. You'll be able to coast right in, but internal security is a whole other problem."

"What does internal security look like?" Fynta asked. It happened so quickly that Jorgan missed the moment when she'd switched from concerned friend to Havoc commander.

"That's the thing, I've got no idea." Jaxo sounded dumbfounded and the image became garbled, removing the SpecForce sergeant from view temporarily. "But you better make your approach now. I'm getting some interference. I'll contact you once you're inside. Jaxo out."

Fynta spun away from the holo and began divvying out orders instantly. "Dorne, you're in charge of tech. Get us in there, slice into as many of their systems as we can. Cormac, you're with me, bring along some toys. I want to make sure the Empire doesn't move back in when we're done here." Elara nodded and started working at the one of the terminals along the wall, then darted to the holotable to plug in her datapad while Cormac disappeared into the armory.

Jorgan followed Fynta to her room where her helmet was waiting. "And me, boss?" he asked, although Jorgan was sure he already knew the answer.

Fynta met his eyes, lingering for just a moment. "You have the ship. If things get too bad, pull out and regroup."

Now that Jorgan carried the XO title, they couldn't rush in side by side anymore. Someone had to stay back to pick things up if the op went bad. "Yes, sir." Jorgan swallowed his trepidation as he climbed the stairs to the bridge two at a time. He took the pilot's chair and edged the Thunderclap into the only open docking bay and set her down. Then Jorgan reached over and pressed the intercom key, "We're in. Good luck."

"See ya soon, boss," Cormac answered. The airlock opened and Jorgan could hear the storm of blaster fire briefly before it shut again.

Jorgan returned to the main room and activated the holo to watch through Fynta and Cormac's POV cameras. He was just in time to see the big man plant his feet and launch a rocket into the middle of a group of advancing battle droids. Spraying hydraulic fluids and droid shrapnel all over the hangar. "Let's have some fun, eh Captain?" The man laughed as he jogged off to set the timers.

"Don't die, Cormac," Fynta called after him before turning further into the makeshift prison.

"Are you kidding? Elara would kill me," the man shot back. Jorgan spared a sidelong glance at the woman in question. The medic's face was perfectly composed as she studied the screen before her, but Jorgan imaged her heart was beating as fast as his own.

Then Jaxo's voice filled the room, causing Dorne to glance up from her terminal. "Now that's what I call a beachhead!"

"Okay, Jaxo. My squad will hold this position, what's next?" Fynta responded in a serious tone. Dorne must have patched the others through the main speakers, so no matter where anyone was in the ship, everyone would be apprised of the mission.

"Next up is the command center. That's where you'll need to go to open the cells. Once our boys are loose, they can ride out in one of the old supply transports," replied Jaxo's disembodied voice. "It'll be a tight fit, but I doubt anyone will complain."

"How are _you_ getting out of here, Jaxo," Fynta asked. The spunky SpecForce sergeant had slipped out of her cell somehow to send the encoded message. She was now stuck on one of the service levels.

"I can take care of myself, don't worry," Jaxo responded. "I'll rendezvous with the others and help them get the transport out of here. Good luck, Captain."

"You too, Sergeant."

**Balmorra  
Sobrik Outpost**

Sobrik was big. Really, really big. Much bigger than any of the Republic bases. Luckily for Cinlat, Imperials hired bounty hunters a lot, so no one gave two Mandalorians a second glance. It helped that the place was in total chaos, making following Vik's path fairly simple. She just had to follow the bodies. Whatever ordinance the Weequay had used made a mess and burned everything, even the non-flammable stuff.

"I think there are as many resistance fighters here as there are Imperials," Verin said, flipping one of the corpses over, then turning away when he realized the guy no longer had a face.

"Didn't his file say something about collateral damage?" Cinlat asked, stepping to the side to avoid an ambulance.

Verin snorted, "I'm liking him less and less. No honor in getting your own people killed."

"At least he'll be easy to track." Cinlat's comm chirped. Fynta was calling in for an update. She patched Verin through before answering. "What have you gotten us into, Fyn'ika?"

"That bad, huh?" There were sirens wailing in the background and the distinct sound of a handheld cannon.

"What exactly are you planning to do with this guy?" Verin asked. "I'm really hoping it involves a bolt between the eyes."

His little sister sighed. "Not at first. No. He giving you trouble?"

"For a hundred kilo Weequay he sure is slippery. But we'll get him and pass him on alive and mostly intact."

_"You've got to move, sir!"_ A deep voice growled in the background, making the hair on the back of Cinlat's neck stand on end.

"Just don't shoot off any important parts. He's a demolitions expert, so make sure he keeps everything he needs. I've got one of the best medic in the galaxy, so the rest is collateral," Fynta answered. Cinlat smiled, Fynta had read the file too. "Contact me if you need anything. Wolfe out."

The call ended and Verin snorted again, "Wolfe out? Who does she think she is?"

"The commander of a black ops squad in the Republic army," Cinlat repeated. Verin had a hard time remembering that Fynta wasn't a little girl anymore. His only response was a grunt until they got inside the office. The two spread out and casually began searching for clues as to where their mark might have gone this time.

"Got a body over here," Verin called. "Still warm. Looks like resistance again."

The holo on the man's belt flickered. Cinlat reached down to answer it but Verin beat her to it. "Hmmm," Vik said. "You're not the man I left behind to cover us, but you're answering his holo. Just who does that make you?" Vik looked like every other Weequay. Grey, wrinkled skin, small, beady eyes, and the arrogant smirk of a thug. Apart from the Hutts, Weequay were the only other species nearly one hundred percent guaranteed to grow up to become criminals.

"Your new commanding officer. I've been looking for you." Verin sounded pretty convincing for a guy who lived most of his life on the wrong side of the law.

"Ha! I thought that message was a prank, especially since it said the commander was a woman."

"Fine," Verin conceded, "She was busy; so she hired us to pick you up."

Vik rubbed his hands together, "This is too good. Now they're sending bounty hunters. And I thought High Command didn't like me." He was having too much fun with this. If the situation was different, Cinlat might have offered him a job. He was sneaky and ruthless. But Verin probably wouldn't approve. "That'll have to wait until my work here is done. I couldn't stand to leave without doing my part for Balmorra."

Cinlat moved around behind where Verin was crouched so that she could be seen over his shoulder. "I don't like having to chase my marks across the planet. It makes me cranky."

"What was that?" Vik held his hand up to one stubby ear. "I'm sorry, your signal seems to be cutting out."

Cinlat crossed her arms.

"You know. If you were really interested in catching up to me you might try helping out. My odds of survival go way up if I'm not doing it all alone. I'd say we all win."

Cinlat looked down at the body. "Looks like all your helpers end up the same."

The Weequay smirked but otherwise ignored the accusation. "My team and I just grabbed an enemy VIP. He's a Balmorran fat-cat named Brail Orus, the guy who sold Balmorra out to the Imps." There was yelling and cursing in the background just out of visual range. "He's uh, volunteered the location of the hazard vault where my objective is hidden. I'm _borrowing_ a Republic missile battery to blast in."

"What's hidden inside the hazard vault, Vik?"

"You let me worry about that part. I need you to clear a path. There are all sorts of defenses that could stop my missile before it hits. The Imps have anti-missile turrets, shields, defense sensors. . . ." Vik smiled and crossed his arms. "Why don't you start with the sensors? Take them down, then contact me again. Copy?"

"When I catch up to you we are going to have a little chat," Verin warned.

"Sure we are, little man." Vik ended the call.

Verin stood up and pocketed the holo, "Fynta's absolutely sure we can't shoot him?"

"She just said nowhere vital or that will interfere with his work," Cinlat answered.

"I can work with that."

**A-77  
Imperial Detention Center**

Cormac jogged towards the main room in the center of the ship and the door opened without fuss. "Thanks, doll." Cormac smiled, his woman had managed to get all the doors open between the ship and the main control room. He and Fynta hadn't come across anything heavier than the occasional battle droid, which had the bosses conversing over whether or not they were walking into a trap. Cormac was pretty sure they were.

The Command Center appeared to be empty. It wasn't until Cormac had nearly reached the central computer terminal that he saw the body in the corner. It looked like a Mon Calamari, a peaceful, humanoid aquatic species, complete with gills and webbed fingers and toes. "Uh, Captain. . . ."

"Fierfek," Fynta spat, kneeling beside the creature. "He hasn't been dead long. We need to move." She had her calm, quiet voice on, which made everyone nervous.

"So what's the plan?" Cormac asked.

Fynta went to the terminal and started slicing into the system. "Jaxo, do we know who's running this place?"

"It's automated, but I've heard a lot of the prisoners mention a guy name General Rakton. He's pretty serious business in the Empire," Jaxo reported, then followed it up with, "I've had a lot of spare time on my hands recently."

"I know that name," Jorgan cut in. "Rakton is the guy responsible for most of the Empire's victories against the Republic. He's a tactical geniu—" Jorgan stopped short. "Meaning this is definitely a trap. No way would a guy like Rakton allow his secret prison to be accidentally stumbled upon."

"Any chance we're just that good?" Cormac asked, although he pretty much already knew the answer. Jorgan was to military intel as Elara was to, well, everything else.

"We'll just have to move faster. I'm not leaving these men behind," Fynta answered. Cormac knew when to keep his mouth shut and Fynta's tone made it clear that she wouldn't put up with any argument. Nobody else said anything either.

**Balmorra  
Gorinth Canyon**

Cinlat planned on shooting Tanno Vik in the kneecap when she finally caught up with him. All night traipsing around a shabla swamp shutting down anti-air turrets and the like, just so he could give them coordinates to an ambush. That doe-eyed resistance fighter used his dying breath to call Vik a hero and beg them to save the Weequay's sorry shebs from the Imperials, who didn't take kindly to him kidnapping one of their paid for diplomats. Then she and Verin had to deal with wading through lines of Imperials on high alert just to get into the shabla base. Verin had almost gotten into a fist fight with one particularly smug Imperial. Turned out the guy was little more than a glorified Balmorran conscript. So Verin decked him anyway.

When they finally found Vik, he was on his knees, hands cuffed behind his back, and taking a beating from an Imperial commando. A chubby, red faced man in fancy clothes was screaming and spitting, "Again! Hit him again! Make that thieving liar pay!"

"We could just shoot them all," Verin suggested quietly.

"I'm considering it," Cinlat replied. For now she was happy to just stand in the doorway watching the commando beat the osik out of Vik for her. At least, until the Weequay looked up and spotted her.

"Well, it's been fun, guys. But it looks like my ride is here. It's been nice knowing ya."

The Imperial Commando turned around and nodded at Cinlat, not seeming in the least bit surprised to find her standing in his doorway. Mandalorians could get away with just about anything since the Mand'alor was in the Sith's pockets. Artus Lok had won a lot of battles for the Empire. Cinlat nodded back to the man, Republic or Imperial, made no difference to her. "I've got a contract for this guy when you're done with him. Need him alive though, oh, and all his fingers intact."

The fat man turned an unhealthy shade of red. "We don't negotiate with riffraff. The Empire bows to no one! Isn't that right?" He stammered, looking at his Imperial lackey.

"Yes, sir," answered the commando. He didn't make a move for his weapon though.

"So, is that a no?" Cinlat asked, arms crossed.

"Of course it's a no," Orus screamed. "Fire! Shoot her!"

The commando's faceplate turned back to the Balmorran. "Sir, she's a bounty hunter. I'm sure wherever she's taking him is worse than here," the commando offered.

The fat man grunted, "No! I will not turn him over to this scum!" A shot rang out from behind Cinlat and the Orus stumbled forward, clutching his ample gut, before landing unceremoniously on his face. Cinlat didn't have to look behind her to know who fired that shot. Verin was in a testy mood too.

The commando looked at the body of his dead master and held both hands up, "I've got no quarrel with you, hunters."

"Good man." Verin nodded, "Now beat it." The soldier never looked back, just nodded in return and strode out the door.

Cinlat circled around behind Vik to haul him to his feet, cuffs included. "You going to take these off?" The Weequay asked over his shoulder.

Cinlat shoved him towards Verin, who leaned back on his heels and surged forward to crack his gloved fist across Vik's jaw. Cinlat heard something crunch. "You've given us nothing but trouble, Tanno Vik," Verin growled. "And I'm not even getting _paid_ for it!"

Vik doubled over, shaking his head. "Come on! Haven't I had enough for one day?" He worked his jaw back and forth before staring into Verin's faceplate. "What do you mean you're not getting paid?"

Verin crossed his arms, "I owed the captain a favor." Vik looked stunned, which only succeeded in making him look stupid. Good, maybe they could send the Weequay to Fynta with a little pre-instilled fear. "Now, what was so important here that you had to drag me and the wife half way across the planet?"

It didn't take long for the arrogance to reappear. "Come on, I'll fill you in on my little operation." Vik walked over to a big door and nodded, "Maybe make it worth your while. That vault we blew open is full of pricey, prototype weapons designed by Balmorran companies. Orus had them hidden before the Imperial evasion to _keep them safe._ " That seemed to amuse the Weequay.

Cinlat stepped around him to get a better look since the guy was a head and a half taller than her and twice as wide. "You did all of this just to get those weapons for yourself. Didn't you?" Not that she blamed him, she just would have done things a little quieter.

"Yep, pretty impressive work, I'd say. Orus planned to sell the prototypes for a tidy profit. We could do the same, after picking a few choice items for ourselves, of course."

"Or, I could just not shoot you in the knee and take the profits for myself," Cinlat replied. Verin was already going through the weapons. "I've got a nice, cozy cell waiting on you."

The Weequay muttered under his breath and Cinlat shot him with a tranquilizer dart. The big guy hit the ground with a crash and Cinlat walked over to join her husband in the vault.

**A-77  
Imperial Detention Center**

Jorgan had been right about this being a trap. The holo of General Rakton had appeared out of nowhere and now he was gloating over his soon to be victims. Cormac stood next to Fynta, watching the bald man. Rakton looked to be in his late forties, with one of those thick mustaches and beards that were cut close to the mouth. "Your soldier's escape was no accident. Imperial warships have maneuvered into position around A-77. The facility will be obliterated in a matter of minutes. Goodbye." The man nodded to someone off screen, then the image vanished.

The asteroid prison shook, just a vibration at first, then more violently, and something exploded behind them. "Multiple contacts, sir!" Elara reported.

"The shields are already failing!" Jorgan responded. "You've got to get out of there, Fynta. Now!"

"Uh, you want to give me an update here, Captain? It feels like someone's shooting at us," Jaxo's voice joined the rest in the chaos of the moment.

"Imperial ships are firing on us. We're working on a way out but you need to get moving now," Fynta answered in a calm voice.

"They're going to blow up their own prison? This is insane!" Jaxo yelled. Another explosion rocked the station, Cormac and Fynta grabbed each other's arms to help balance themselves.

"Hull breach, you're venting atmosphere." It was Elara this time, and she didn't sound as steady as usual. "Sir, you must evacuate."

"Cormac, get back to the ship," Fynta ordered. "Jorgan, if it gets too rocky, then you get out, understood?"

"We aren't leaving without you, Captain," he growled.

Cormac agreed. "All due respect, boss, but I'm staying if you're staying."

Fynta muttered something in Mando'a as she typed furiously on the console. "Shab!" She smacked her hand down and started over. "This encryption is too good," Fynta snarled.

"Another breach, sir. Detention levels four and five have depressurized," Elara said, more calm now.

Cormac's legs were starting to feel wobbly as the constant shudder reverberated through the floor. "Jaxo, can you do anything from your end?" Fynta's question was met by silence. "Jaxo?"

"I'm sorry, sir. Level six is gone," Elara said in a reserved tone.

Fynta swore again and hit the intercom key, "Attention all personnel: This is Captain Fynta Wolfe of the Republic Army, make for the shuttle bay and grab a ship as soon as your door opens. Do not hesitate." Her helmet angled over her shoulder towards Cormac. "Get back to the ship, that's an order."

"There is nothing else you can do, Fynta. Get back here before you get yourself killed." Jorgan was growling and Fynta was ignoring him. For the most part.

"I'm not leaving until everyone is out of their cell," she growled back at him. "Cormac, I told you to get to the ship; shift your shebs, soldier!"

"Sir, the lieutenant is correct, you can do no more," Elara added, attempting to be the voice of reason.

The console sparked as if on cue and all the lights went out. "Shab!" Fynta gave it a good kick and grabbed her rifle. Cormac's suit beeped to alert him that he had twenty minutes of oxygen left, meaning their level was compromised and anyone left here was as good as dead.

"Where are you going?" Jorgan snarled again. It was his perpetual tone during any mission where the Cathar couldn't physically restrain the captain from doing something stupid.

"I can get down to the cells, get a few more of our soldiers out. You guys pull out and I'll get on a shuttle—" Fynta glanced back to where Cormac was following and sighed, " _We'll_ get on a shuttle with the rest." Cormac wasn't about to leave her behind. She was the boss, which meant he went where she went.

"Sir, please, I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation," Elara tried again. Usually Fynta listened to her, this time though, the captain cut her comms.

Cormac's private line clicked on. "Cormac, bring her in." It was Jorgan and the Cathar didn't sound happy about what he was suggesting.

"There will be hell to pay," Cormac responded. He didn't exactly savor what Jorgan wanted him to do either.

"Better hell to pay than a dead CO. I'll take the blame." Cormac felt bad for the guy. Jorgan had just gotten up the courage to kiss the captain and now he was probably going to lose her for good. It made Cormac's stomach roll, but he there was no way Fynta would reach the lower levels before this whole place was destroyed.

Fynta had taught Havoc Squad that the only way to take down a Mandalorian was to catch them off guard. He'd have to hit Fynta with a sucker punch, and hit her hard. Cormac strode a little closer behind, even with his longer legs, it was a chore because she was moving fast. When he was in range, Cormac took a deep breath and held it. "I'm sorry, boss." Then he raised his rifle and brought it down as hard as he dared where the helmet connected to the back plate. The _sweet spot_ , as Fynta called it. Her knees buckled and Cormac just barely managed to catch her shoulders before her head hit the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> beskar'gam [BES-kar-GAM] armor
> 
> Fierfek [FIRE-fek] a Huttese slang word that meant "hex" or "curse," but was commonly accepted to mean "poison" by non-Huttese-speaking races. Later adopted as an expletive.
> 
> shab - excrement (used as a curse)
> 
> shabla [SHAH-bla] screwed up – impolite
> 
> Osik [OH-sik] dung (impolite)
> 
> Mand'alor [MAHN-dah-lor] sole ruler
> 
> shebs [shebs] backside, rear, buttocks


	20. Retribution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, we have reached the point where the game cannon is background because this is just more fun. The first fight was originally a challenge from a friend who wanted to see Fynta and Jorgan go head to head, and well, I liked the outcome. The second fight was simply because, come on, anyone really think Tanno Vik will just roll over and be a good boy without a reason?
> 
> Fynta/Jorgan fight was written to Shatter Me by Lindsey Stirling.

 

** Kiffu Orbital Station  
The Thunderclap **

Fynta's head and neck were throbbing. She didn't want to open her eyes, but something urgent kept pushing at the back of her mind. She needed to get somewhere, and time was against her. She had to move, had to go faster. Someone was screaming in her ear, telling Fynta she needed to get out, but her mission wasn't complete. That was it, people were dying. Soldiers. Fynta had to get to as many as she could. If only the floor would stop trying to upend her. Fynta's HUD flashed, blinding her temporarily, warning that she only had ten minutes of oxygen left. It would have to be enough. Then darkness.

The images played on a loop, like a holovid, but she was sure they were hers. A man's face, frozen and bloody, floated across the security screen just before the panel blew. Fynta couldn't remember the species, but his still open, black eyes were etched into her memory. She couldn't afford to fail this mission.

Suddenly, Fynta was awake, though she couldn't remember falling asleep. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness in her room. She shouldn't be in her room, she should be on the prison asteroid. The memories were flooding back so quickly that Fynta almost gasped. A sharp pain pulled at the base of her skull when she tried to move her head. Something had hit her, a perfect, incapacitating strike. Too perfect to have been an accident. Fynta's blood turned to ice, she'd been betrayed. But Cormac would never do that. He was honorable, like a brother.

The rustle of fabric caught Fynta's attention and she could make out the familiar, dull glow of glacial eyes in her peripheral. Jorgan. Cormac would never strike her unless he were under direct orders. It felt like a knife in her heart and hurt blazed into anger. He inhaled sharply when her eyes slid his way.

Forcing herself up in the bed, Fynta fought back the ache that came with turning her head. The urge to work out the stiffness in her neck would have to wait. Jorgan was sitting in the chair beside the door, one ankle resting on the opposite knee, an elbow on the armrest, with his chin propped in that same hand. He didn't speak, just studied her, but Fynta bet he was keeping a vigilant eye on her mood. Jorgan was in his fatigues, not armor, and there was a datapad bouncing up and down on his crossed knee. Fynta was pretty sure she knew what was on it.

"Casualty report, Lieutenant." Her voice sounded harsh in her own ears. Fynta had never spoken to him that way and she wondered if it hurt him as much as it did her.

Jorgan's knee stopped moving and he stared at Fynta for another long minute before tossing the datapad onto the bed beside her. The report was already open on the screen.  _So, he knew it would be my first request._  Somehow, that made this whole screw up even worse.

Three hundred and twenty seven confirmed Republic prisoners of war, one hundred and ninety-one casualties. Sergeant Ava Jaxo being mentioned among them. That left one hundred and thirty-six traumatized survivors. General Garza had just sent the report an hour earlier, Sergeant Jaxo, along with the rest, would be receiving posthumous awards for bravery.

Fynta took a deep breath and shut her eyes.  _So many dead_. "Why are you in my room, Lieutenant?" She couldn't bring herself to use his name. The familiarity that always seemed so safe was suddenly an anchor around her neck, threatening to drag her down to the bottom of oblivion. There was an angry beast inside, trying desperately to claw its way to the surface, and Fynta was just barely holding onto it.  _One hundred and ninety-one shabbing casualties._  The thought was staggering.

Jorgan uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Making sure you're alright." His deep voice crawled over Fynta and she was suddenly at war with herself between lashing out and leaping into his arms. No doubt both would be equally startling. Instead, Fynta settled for climbing out of bed. She needed to get out of this room, away from Jorgan's musky scent that had always been so comforting before. Fynta needed to hit something, and it probably shouldn't be him.

"Fynta," he called from behind as she strode from the room. It wasn't until she was nearly to the training room, which used to be the storage bay, that she realized she was wearing her black PT shorts and fatigue undershirt. No bodysuit, no armor, no shoes.

Normally, this would have been a perfect time to give Jorgan a good ribbing, but she didn't have it in her. Fynta didn't feel flirty or playful. She felt empty of all emotion other than anger. Both Jorgan and Cormac had defied her orders. Cormac had struck her, Jorgan had made the call. Fynta's hands were shaking, so she balled them into fists to steady them. Her thoughts turned to her brother, Verin. After their parents died, they'd beat each other bloody in their grief, then picked one another up and moved on. That was what Fynta needed right now, a good, honest, fist fight.

Fynta was aware of Jorgan's footsteps behind her, her brain registering that he was barefoot as well, but she ignored those too as she entered the training room. At least, until he grabbed her arm. "Fyn—"

She reacted before she could stop herself, spinning out of his grasp and using the momentum it gave her to crack him across the jaw with her right fist. Jorgan staggered back, putting a hand to his chin and working it back and forth. It annoyed her even more that he didn't look surprised. Fynta glared at him, her pulse was pounding in her ears, everything was tinged in a shade of red, and she swung again.

Jorgan managed to block her fist, but not the kick she landed on the back of his knee. His leg gave out and he went down to one knee with a grunt. Fynta stalked around him, her breathing ragged, somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew things were getting out of hand, but she didn't care. Her logical brain had no business interfering in these affairs.

"Get up," she ordered in a steady tone. There was no honor in beating a man who couldn't stand. Jorgan peered up at her, then got back to his feet. His expression was hard to pin down, but she wasn't interested in his emotional state anymore. Fynta wanted retribution for all the soldiers he'd left to die on that asteroid.

Fynta launched at him, losing herself to her anger and grief, bringing her right fist up under Jorgan's chin. The sound of his teeth snapping together drove her on. He blocked her left with his forearm and managed to shove her away. She hadn't been expecting it and stumbled back two steps. "Fynta, consider what you're doing," he said in a calm voice that only managed to infuriate her more.

She went after him once more, this time ducking beneath his arm to punch him in the back and aiming another kick for his knee. Jorgan stepped out of the way a fraction of a second before Fynta connected and her bare foot slammed down on the floor. "You left those men to die," she accused, savoring the shockwave of pain that traveled from the sole of her foot into her hip.

Fynta knew that momentum was the only thing she had going for her against a stronger opponent, so she couldn't let herself be slowed down or distracted by chatter. She covered the space between them and let her fists fly, releasing control and simply allowing her body to react. Her knee connected with Jorgan's stomach even as he blocked her fist. He grunted, but didn't back down this time. She saw that spark familiar in his eye and Fynta knew she was wearing his calm façade down. If he was so determined to mutiny, she'd make him work for it.

This time, Jorgan made the first move, but not as Fynta expected. He didn't lash out with his fists as she had, instead he grabbed her shoulders. "Blast it, woman, list—" Fynta's response was another punch to the jaw, she didn't want to listen. His words meant nothing. Jorgan's grip loosened and Fynta put her left foot to the center of his chest with as much force as she could manage.

Jorgan staggered back again and shook his head. "If I hadn't ordered Cormac to bring you back, you'd be dead," he snarled. The light in his eyes was growing brighter. "Along with all of those men. Rakton would have won."

Fynta snatched a wooden fighting stick from the weapon's rack. "So you had my best man attack me?" Her tone was incredulous. She twirled the stick around her hands, getting a feel for its weight. Jorgan moved without warning, snatching a fighting stick of his own and brought it up just in time to block her sweeping blow. Fynta spun around to go for his feet and he blocked that one too, slamming the end of the stick into the floor. She hadn't realized how much he had improved over the last year.

Then Jorgan came after her, raining blow after blow, using his greater height and strength to drive her back. "You wouldn't see reason," he growled, holding the stick two handed and pounding down on her defenses. "There wasn't another way to get you back to the ship. You couldn't save them." She managed to duck inside of his reach and elbow him in the stomach, driving the breath from his lungs and spinning away before he could retaliate.

Fynta's brain told her that his words made sense, but she couldn't stop. She needed the adrenaline; the pain from the strikes he'd landed on her thighs and upper arms. Fynta took a running leap and used the wooden stick to propel herself forward by jamming it into the floor, intent on landing a finishing blow. One moment she was advancing, the next his shoulder dug into her ribs and she was falling.

The collision left Fynta gasping for air. She was laying on the floor, Jorgan on all fours above her. His hands had her wrists pinned and his knees were locking her legs together, she could feel his toes digging into her shins, immobilizing her completely. "Enough, Fynta!" Jorgan snarled, his face twisted in anger.

Something wet dripped on her cheek, it smelled metallic and Fynta realized for the first time that he was bleeding. Reality crashed in on her. The sounds of from the ship's engines, just below her. The feeling of the cool metal vibrating under her back. The smell of sweat and blood and dust, and the pain from the many bruises she didn't realize she had. Then the dead man's face floated in her vision again and Fynta thought she might vomit.

Jorgan must have sensed some change, because he released her in time for Fynta to roll onto her stomach and heave. Fynta didn't know how long it had been since she had eaten, but all she tasted was the burning of bile. Her stomach didn't seem convinced of its emptiness and kept trying. She was vaguely aware of Jorgan kneeling beside her, pulling her braid away from her face and letting it rest along her spine. The rolling in her stomach eventually gave way to coughs, which gave way to trembling gasps.

Fynta remained there, her forehead pressed against the cold floor, willing herself to get control and failing. All of those soldiers were dead, because one chakaar wanted her out of the way, wanted her squad out of the way. Rakton hadn't just been aiming for her, the man wanted her team dead too. Elara, Balic, and . . . Aric. They weren't her enemy. Fynta kept coming back to the final name, thinking it over and over like a litany, finding it easier to breathe with each repetition.

A warm hand rested on her shoulder, calming her shuddering. It was a careful reminder that Jorgan was still there, that he hadn't left her alone. Fynta placed her palms flat against the floor and pushed up to her knees, sitting back on her heels, and made herself look into his eyes. "I'll find Rakton, Aric." She found saying his name out loud was easier now. "And I will kill him."

Jorgan nodded, then did something Fynta didn't expect. He put his free hand on her other shoulder and pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her, and resting his chin on top of her head. " _We'll_  find him," he promised.

** The Thunderclap  
Two Hours Later **

Jorgan caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he washed the blood from his black shirt and pants. Dorne and Cormac had returned to the ship once he'd given the all clear. Having sent them out into the spacestation for drinks so he could deal with Fynta alone. It had been impossible to pretend nothing had happened. A busted lip, cracked tooth, and some bruised ribs wouldn't escape Elara Dorne's notice. Jorgan had explained that he and Fynta had sorted the situation out and left it at that. Cormac had looked amused, at least.

Jorgan worked his jaw side to side, feeling, as well as hearing the cracking on the left side. Damn, that woman could hit hard. A chill ran up his spine every time he thought back on the whole nightmare. He'd known she'd be furious when she came around, but nothing could prepare him for what he saw in her eyes when she woke up. It was like hitting a wall of pure rage. All that anger he'd seen simmering so close to the surface over the last year hadn't simply boiled over, it had erupted. The after effects of the sedative Dorne had given Fynta had burned off in mere seconds.

Jorgan sighed and leaned against the sink. He had always wondered just how far Fynta could be pushed, now he knew. Leaving men behind, that was the line she refused to cross. He stood by his decision. There was nothing else they could do, but Jorgan wondered if she would ever forgive him. Fynta hadn't protested when he put his arms around her, she'd even leaned into the embrace, and they sat like that for thirty minutes. He remembered the way her shoulders rose and fell against his chest as she took slow, deliberate breaths. When she had finally pulled away, Fynta sounded almost normal. As if whatever demons that had been plaguing her just vanished. Jorgan vowed to keep a close eye on her in the coming weeks, just in case.

" _Suit up everyone. Our bounty has arrived."_  It was Fynta's voice on the intercom. She still sounded normal.

Jorgan rubbed his hands over his face and head, then wrung out his clothes and tossed them over the drying line they'd stretched across the refreshers. Next, he put his armor on and headed for the main room. Dorne and Cormac were in the medbay with the door open. Jorgan locked eyes with the big man momentarily. Cormac nodded, then bent to snap on his greaves.

The familiar sound of Fynta's boots echoed down to Jorgan from the bridge before she appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Her hair was freshly brushed and re-braided and she was completely armored with her helmet under her arm. Her eyes were warm when they met his, which caught Jorgan off guard. Even more so when she stopped at the bottom of the stairs next to him and lowered her voice. "Have you seen my necklace?" Fynta's fingers rested at the hollow of her throat for emphasis.

Jorgan stared at her blankly for a moment. He'd seen it on the floor after Fynta had excused herself to the showers. Jorgan had picked up the small jewel, marveling that he hadn't realized it was there all along, and slipped it into his pocket for safekeeping. Now, Jorgan dug in pouch on his belt, surprised by the note of concern in her voice, and held the smoky white stone on its gold chain out to her. Fynta plucked it from his palm with a sigh of relief and clasped it around her neck. "I was worried I'd lost it back there." There was no need for clarification on where  _back there_ was. Jorgan watched her tuck it down inside her armor with a fluency that spoke of intimate familiarity, as did the fact she'd noticed its absence so quickly. The emotions that followed that epiphany were far too complex for him to try to work out today.

Fynta turned to address the other two members of their squad. "Let's not give the bounty hunters any more information than we have to. Buy'ce on." She'd taken to calling their helmets by the traditional Mando'a word for Cormac's entertainment. The man wanted to learn everything he could about her culture, claiming it was a lot more fun than his own.

Cormac stopped Fynta on the way to the airlock. "We okay, boss?" For once the big man wasn't smiling. He was worried. Jorgan knew how much Fynta's friendship meant to him.

Fynta reached up and patted his face, which took some doing given their drastic differences in height, "We're  _aliit_ , Cormac. We'll always be okay." She made eye contact with Jorgan and Dorne, making sure they knew they were included too, smacked the big guy's helmet with the palm of her hand. "Now let's go get our fugitive Weequay."

** Kiffu  
Planetary Orbital Station **

Cinlat opened the airlock, keeping her long barreled rippers trained on their prisoner while Verin shoved him down the ramp. Four heavily armored soldiers were waiting at the bottom, all wearing helmets except Fynta, who stood stony faced with her arms crossed. A big guy with the rank of lieutenant stood to her right with a sniper rifle cradled in his arms and a mountain of a man stood on her left. Cinlat almost missed the other woman.

"He give you much trouble?" Fynta asked in a lowered tone that said  _don't mess with me_. Cinlat thought it was an act at first, until she saw the hard set of Fynta's jaw and realized that things must have gone badly on whatever mission they'd just come from.

Verin shrugged, "Nothing we couldn't handle. Won't be sad to see him leave though." They'd decided to keep their helmets on for the exchange too. Cinlat didn't like people knowing who she was any more than it appeared Fynta wanted them to know who her soldiers were.

Fynta stepped up to the Weequay and managed to look him in the eye despite his added height. "You going to cause  _me_  trouble?"

Vik grinned, "Depends, sweetheart. You like trouble?"

The sniper stepped forward and rammed his rifle butt into Vik's stomach with enough force to double the Weequay over. Fynta was unmoved. "Cormac, Jorgan, get private Vik to the ship and make sure he gets settled in. Dorne, prep us for takeoff." The two males each grabbed one of Vik's arms, still cuffed, and the woman nodded politely before following her comrades. Cinlat and Verin waited until they were out of sight before removing their helmets.

"Stoic bunch you've got there," Verin said.

"Only if they don't like you. They are a solid group, though." Fynta sighed, beginning to physically show the toll life had taken on her. "It's good to see you."

She let Verin pull her into a fierce hug. "Please tell me you're escorting that guy to his execution, Fyn'ika."

"I wish. He's being rewarded for all his misdeeds with a spot on my squad." Fynta leaned back, "But you've got your own problems. What's this about you two ending up on the Republic's most wanted list?" She whacked her brother on the back of the head. "And not taking my holo?"

Cinlat knew it was only a matter of time before Fynta found out. "It was a mix up, then the Jetii attacked us and we defended ourselves."

"It's taken care of," Verin assured his sister while rubbing his head. "Didn't want you to worry."

"We had a talk with the Chancellor, it'll all be over soon," Cinlat added.

Fynta eyed them both with suspicion before letting it drop. "Well, he's not dead, so I guess I can't complain. Contact me if you need anything, the Jedi can take care of themselves." Fynta smiled at them both, and for a moment, she looked like that feisty fifteen year old girl again. She'd been a pain in the shebs _,_  but had grown into an accomplished warrior. "Thanks for bringing me Vik, vode _._ " Fynta tossed Verin a couple of unmarked credit sticks, "For your trouble."

"Thanks," Verin said with a grin, pocketing the chips.

"You want to tell us what's bugging you?" Cinlat ignored the credits and Verin's confused expression.

Fynta rubbed her hands down her face and sighed again. "Failed a mission, people died," she answered. Cinlat didn't need any more than that.

Verin pulled his sister in tight again, "You watch that Weequay. Might want to store him in the airlock."

"I'll keep that in mind," Fynta chuckled. When she pulled away from Verin, Fynta looked tired again. "I need to get going. I'm on a deadline."

Cinlat put her hand on Fynta's shoulder, "K'oyacyi, Fyn'ika _._ "  _Stay alive, little sister._  They hadn't seen her in nearly four years, and now they were parting ways again. Fynta couldn't afford to be seen dealing with them, not until Cinlat got all this Jetii vendetta osik cleared up for good.

Fynta slipped her helmet on and nodded at them before turning to exit the hangar. "I'll never get used to seeing her all grown up, Cinlat." Verin had his hands on his hips, staring after his little sister. "Havoc Squad has changed her."

"Maybe," Cinlat nodded in agreement. "We probably shouldn't let her know we've figured out who she works for."

Verin chuckled, "Hey, Kiffu's a nice planet, we should go down for a little bit."

"Kiffu is also allied with the Republic," Cinlat reminded him. "Best stay in Imperial space for now."

"Yeah." Then Verin grinned at her, "Nar Shaddaa?"

** 422 days after Ord Mantell  
Thunderclap **

Jorgan was cleaning his weapon in the armory when he heard the shouting. He dropped the rod he'd been using to scrub the barrel and nearly collided with Fynta at the door. Cormac and Vik were face to face in the main room, equally large men squared off. Vik was grinning, but Balic had his fists balled up and Jorgan could see the veins straining against the skin in his arms. Jorgan had never seen Cormac lose his temper, he didn't even realize the man had a temper.

Dorne walked calmly out of the medbay with a syringe in her hand, "Gentlemen, this is enough tranquilizer to put down a bantha. If you wish to remain conscious for the remainder of our trip, I suggest you sod off."

The two men looked at her, then back at one another. Then Cormac's eyes flickered towards Fynta. It had been a week since that disaster at A-77, and while Fynta had rejoined the crew, the once easy atmosphere felt strained. "Fine," Cormac said and stormed off into the kitchen. That was the problem with living on a ship, there was nowhere to truly get away from people.

Dorne glared at Vik. "What? Not my fault he can't take a joke," the Weequay responded with a shrug.

"What the shab is going on in my ship?" Fynta asked, hands on hips. She was in her bodysuit, which meant she'd already started her pre-mission prep. They were traveling down to Hoth to pick up their next squad member, a Gand named Yuun. It had been agreed that Vik was not to be let off the ship unless absolutely necessary. Fynta and Cormac were scheduled to find Yuun while Elara and Jorgan kept an eye on Vik.

The Weequay shrugged, "All I did was offer to keep his girl warm while he was planetside." Vik looked over at Dorne, "You're not even my type."

Fynta grabbed one of the tendril like extensions on the back of Vik's head and pulled him down to her level. He growled in pain, but she didn't flinch. "Listen to me. On this ship we respect one another. Everyone else here has earned it so you better step up." Fynta released him and crossed her arms. "Are we going to have any more problems?"

Vik rubbed the back of his head and chuckled, "I sure hope so, I like 'em rough."

Jorgan knew Fynta was still raw emotion, even though she was slowly packing it back up. Vik had no idea that he was playing with fire. She took a step closer, Vik was more than a head taller than her and twice as wide, but that never fazed Fynta. "You think you're a hard man, Vik? Because you grew up in the slums of Nar Shaddaa, joined a gang, then screwed your career in the military?"

Vik crossed his arms too, matching her stance, "Sweetheart, I'm a hard man because I know how to deal with people who get in my way." He took a step forward but Fynta didn't move.

"Prove it."

"What?" Vik stepped back again and tipped his chin down at her, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Fynta took another step. She was asserting her dominance the only way a thug like Vik could understand, through violence. "Prove it," she repeated, arms out to her sides. "I'm in your way."

"You're kidding," Vik stepped back again.

"Do I look like I'm kidding?" Fynta advanced, slowly driving him out of the center of the room.

Vik didn't look so sure of himself anymore, but he squared his shoulders anyway. "Your funeral," he said and he turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" Fynta asked. "We're doing this now."

Vik looked around, Dorne was in the medbay door, syringe still in hand. The woman could look extremely intimidating given the right circumstances. Cormac had returned to fill the doorway of the conference room, arms crossed, and Jorgan positioned himself by the armory door. They had him surrounded, showing support for their captain.

Vik looked at each of them, then back to Fynta. "Fine."

Fynta put a finger to his chest and gave a little shove, "Hand to hand, no weapons, no armor."

The Weequay glared at her while he began pulling rusted durasteel plates off and tossing them into the corner. Fynta walked over to Jorgan, unclipped her necklace, and placed it in the palm of his hand. "I'll have this back when I'm finished with Vik." She met Jorgan's eyes and held his searching gaze until he nodded. Jorgan wondered if this was Fynta's way of apologizing. She was going to take Vik on to make sure he didn't trouble anyone else in her crew. The faintest smile touched her lips, the first Jorgan had seen since A-77 and he thought there might finally be hope that things could get back to normal.

"Rules?" Vik asked when they were facing one another again.

"We don't kill one another. I win, you will behave yourself and follow orders without complaint and you will not harass anyone on this ship," Fynta answered.

"If I win?" Vik crossed his arms and grinned.

"I'll give you my sleeping quarters and move into the barracks."

Vik considered the terms before nodding. "Yeah. I could use a bigger bed."

"If you win, I'll be dead," Fynta muttered as she took up a fighting stance. Vik just smirked.

Having fought Fynta truly now, Jorgan could see how these sparring matches were just exercises to her. He knew that she fought by instinct, but sparring matches required calculations to ensure she didn't do lasting harm. What Jorgan had seen in the training room that day had been pure, animal rage in a well-trained force. He'd replayed the fight so many times in his head that Jorgan began to wonder if he even remembered it correctly. Jorgan still wasn't sure how he'd beaten her, other than he couldn't remember making the decision to react. He just had. Maybe, after more than a year, Fynta had finally succeeded to teaching him how to stop overthinking. Jorgan wondered if he'd be able to do it again, or if he had to be desperate. Because there was denying that he had been truly desperate to end that fight.

True to form, Fynta lunged first, the speed of the attack put Vik on the defensive from the start. Jorgan knew that was when she was at her best. The captain was an expert at using her opponent's momentum against them, so when Vik lunged for her throat, Fynta spun to the side and caught him between the shoulder blades with her elbow. He stumbled forward with a grunt, but didn't go down. Then they were circling again. Fynta was toying with him, getting a feel for his fighting style. Vik watched her like a predator, studying her feet as well as her hands. He was trying to guess which side was dominant. Jorgan knew that, because it's what he had done before learning that Fynta was ambidextrous. She would attack from whichever side gave her the advantage.

Fynta charged again and Vik sidestepped, managing to avoid the hit, but not being able to land one of his own. He was grinning, thinking he had her figured out. The Weequay didn't give Fynta the chance to attack this time, he came in low and drove his shoulder into her stomach, eliciting a grunt. In the same move he lifted Fynta off her feet and threw the captain onto the floor. Somehow, she'd managed to wrap her leg around his knee, making sure Vik went down too.

The Weequay threw his hand out on instinct, slowing their descent and allowing Fynta to lever herself into position where the Weequay was on his back with her straddling his chest, pummeling his upraised forearms. As soon as he managed to find an opening, Vik's hand shot up and grabbed the braid that had fallen over Fynta's shoulder, flipping her onto her back. The captain responded by wrapping her legs around the Weequay's gut and arching her back, flattening her shoulders against the floor, to keep him from bending forward to slam his fists into her face. Jorgan could see her muscles straining through the snug fitting fibermesh of her bodysuit as she tightened her grip, both soldiers growling with the effort.

Grabbing her legs, Vik swung around violently, causing Fynta to release him to avoid being thrown into the comms terminal. His hand came out, making a sickening  _crunch_  as it connected with her face, sending her sprawling. Fynta landed on her back with a  _thud_  and Vik lunged forward to slam his fist into the floor where her torso had just been. She rolled away, coming up with one knee and a fist on the floor, and leaving a trail of blood from her busted nose.

Jorgan didn't think she even noticed, because Fynta didn't hesitate, she charged, dodged to the right, leapt up and pushed off the comms terminal to vault onto Vik's back. She had her arms wrapped around his neck and Jorgan knew from experience that once her legs were secured around his gut there was no shaking her. She'd nearly made Jorgan black out once just by squeezing her thighs around his chest. Every time his lungs pushed the air out she tightened her grip, making it nearly impossible for them to expand again.

Vik was a big guy though, and Fynta's feet just barely touched around his front, but Jorgan could see the color beginning to drain from the Weequay's face. She may not be able to take him down as quickly as the rest of her squad mates, but she was wearing him out. Vik scrambled from his knees to his feet, attempting to head butt her, but Fynta kept just far enough to the side to avoid any serious hits. He reeled back and tripped over one of his discarded plates, slamming them both into the bulkhead. Fynta let out a cry as his weight crushed her, but still wouldn't give up her hold.

Finally, Vik dropped back to his knees, alternating between digging his thumbs into whatever joints he could reach and elbowing her in the stomach. He must have hit a tender spot because Jorgan heard Fynta's primal snarl through clenched teeth. Vik's face was starting to change color, taking on a slightly purple tinge and his eyes were looking dull.

Both of them were dripping sweat and blood when Vik finally tapped her arm in surrender. Fynta released him, staggered back into the terminal, and slid down to the floor. Vik went back down to his hands and knees, gasping for air. He looked over at her and made a coughing sound that might have been a laugh. "You win, boss," his voice cracked, "You're not new to this."

Fynta was breathing heavy too. "I'm Mando'ade, di'kut." She looked him dead in the eye, not smiling for a change.

Vik sat back on his knees and rubbed his sore abdomen with a scowl. "If I'd known that I might not have taken your kriffing challenge." Then he rose to his feet, looming above Fynta with hands on hips. Jorgan caught her eye and she gave an imperceptible shake of her head. She didn't want him to intervene. A quick look around showed that Cormac wasn't leaning against the wall anymore, but standing ready to jump in, and Dorne was holding something behind her back. The Weequay looked down at Fynta for a few seconds before holding out his hand. "You're the boss," he repeated. "I won't cause any more trouble."

Fynta accepted his hand without hesitation, letting him pull her to her feet. "Good." Then the captain nodded towards the room behind her while pinching the bridge of her nose, "Now go get your gear stowed." Vik grunted in reply as he turned to obey. Jorgan was pleased to see the Weequay bending slowly to pick up his pack, then he limped towards the barracks. Jorgan wasn't thrilled about sharing a room with the guy, though.

"Come on, sir." Dorne was already at Fynta's side. "Let's clean you up."

Fynta was visibly shaking, the effects of the adrenaline needed to endure pain and overpower her opponent were draining from her system rapidly. Cormac put a hand on each of Fynta's shoulders to keep her from swaying as he steered her towards the medbay with Jorgan trailing behind. The big Alderannean scooped Fynta up and sat her on the table while Dorne grabbed the hand held scanner. For once, the captain didn't complain or crack a joke about being treated like an invalid. Jorgan leaned against the doorway to wait for the prognosis. The medic nodded at the readout, satisfied with the result. "No serious injuries, just a few bruises."

Jorgan allowed himself a sigh of relief and pushed off the frame, "We'll be to Hoth in an hour or so, why don't you two go get something to eat. I'll make sure the captain is taken care of."

The two of them stared at Fynta, waiting for permission. "Go on," Fynta said, "Jorgan will make sure I behave. He's sewed me up before."

Dorne's cheeks colored a little. "Yes, sir, I remember."

"You're my hero," Cormac said with a wide grin, slapping her on the back. "When I grow up, I want to be just like you." Fynta laughed, which started a new flow of blood, and waved them out. Dorne slid the door shut behind her.

Jorgan gathered up the gauze, antibacterial cleaner, and a bowl of clean water and stood in front of Fynta. "Good thing there aren't many mirrors on this ship."

Fynta snorted, tipping her head back further when her nose started bleeding onto her bodysuit. "Di'kut' packs a hell of a punch." She glanced back at the door, her eyebrows drawn together, "Think Cormac forgives me?"

Jorgan dipped a cloth into the water and started wiping the blood away from her face, which she had managed to smear quite liberally during the fight. "I don't think he was ever angry." Fynta shivered when the damp cloth touched her neck. Jorgan moved her braid off her shoulder to keep it from getting wet and changed the subject. He knew she felt guilty for forcing their hands, even if she still believed those soldiers could have been saved. It was best to simply move past the event and focus on now. "Your method was effective. I really think Vik's at your command."

Fynta lowered her head slowly, testing to make sure the tide of blood had stopped. "You disapprove?"

"No, I don't. I just didn't want to clean up your blood again." Jorgan held up the rag for emphasis.

Fynta managed a weak smile and patted his face. "I know. But you do it well, and now Dorne's safe." They both knew Vik wouldn't mess with the captain, but Elara had been another story. "Do you forgive me, Jorgan?" She asked suddenly. He knew what she was asking. All that anger had been replaced by guilt and Fynta didn't know what to do with it.

Jorgan sighed and put the rag down on the table, allowing his other hand to rest on Fynta's thigh. She didn't object. "You're too reckless, Fynta. The people aboard this ship care about what happens to our commanding officer. I care." She was studying him with one of her unreadable expressions that could mean anything from annoyance to flirty. "To answer your question. Yes. I knew what I was getting into when I gave the command."

Fynta raised an eyebrow, "Did you now?" Her tone was light, but it sounded forced.

Jorgan allowed himself a small laugh anyway. "Maybe not entirely. I thought it was worth the risk though."

Fynta's hand remained pressed against Jorgan's cheek and for a moment, he thought of kissing her, of making up for the mess he'd made of the first one. Then she smiled, "You didn't drug me again, did you?"

Instead, Jorgan found himself laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a:
> 
> shab - excrement (used as a curse)
> 
> shebs [shebs] backside, rear, buttocks
> 
> osik [OH-sik] dung (impolite)
> 
> jetii [JAY-tee] Jedi
> 
> di'kut [DEE-koot] idiot, useless individual, waste of space (lit. someone who forgets to put their pants on)
> 
> buy'ce [BOO-chay, BOO-shay] helmet


	21. The Gauntlet

**En route to Coruscant  
** **The Thunderclap**

With mission reports submitted, Garza de-briefed, and new sergeant settled in, Fynta figured she still had four hours of hyperspace to take a nap. Havoc Squad's newest member was a Gand named Yuun. Just Yuun, no surname or first name. It was apparently a Gand thing, as was referring to themselves in the third person. Dorne had been kind enough to upload all available information on Gand to their HUDs, but it was a daunting read. Given their ability to manipulate the Force, the Jedi found the species fascinating, and thus there were many, many reports in the file. Fynta had discovered quickly that Jetiise were incredibly thorough note takers.

What Fynta had gleaned from her brief skim of the material, was that Yuun was a Findsmen. An individual Gand who followed an indigenous, shamanistic training that allowed him to damn near see the future and locate items of importance. In fact, it had taken Yuun so little time to find the parts he needed to complete his task on Hoth, that Havoc had spent the entire trip on the move collecting the shabbing things.

The language barrier had been a whole new issue, briefly. Yuun spoke in clicks and chirps that hadn't been on the list in her SpecForce language training. Yet it had only taken Havoc Squad two days to understand. Yuun explained that Gand have a minute trace of psychic ability. After prolonged exposure, their language could be understood through the subtle manipulations of the language centers in the brain. Dorne had found it all fascinating. Fynta wasn't sure how she felt about having someone manipulating her brain, but so long as it remained solely quarantined in the language receptors, she guessed it was okay.

Jorgan was still surly because he'd been forced to ride not only a tauntaun, but an icetromper as well. Both living, hairy creatures. The big Cathar had a problem with any mode of transportation that could think independently of a gear shifter. Fynta smiled to herself, Vik's icetromper in had been in heat and they'd picked up several roaming males, who were intent on making her acquaintance. Every time they stopped to reorient themselves on Hoth's icy surface, Vik had to fire a couple of shots into the snow to keep the males from trying to mount her while he was still in the saddle. Fynta had stopped a couple of extra times just for the fun of it. Vik had chuckled approvingly when he figured out what she was doing.

Hoth's environment was brutal on everyone, though, so Fynta had called lights out after they ate to ensure Havoc was at least somewhat rested. Garza's claimed it was finally time to hit the Gauntlet, which put everyone on edge. Especially since the older woman had been annoyingly guarded with the details in her communicade. Fynta didn't know if that meant they were hitting the superweapon immediately, or in a few days. Given the ship's silence, it came as a surprise when someone knocked on her door.

"Jorgan?"

Fynta could smell the earthy aroma that surrounded the Cathar. Normally, the sight of Aric standing in her doorway while everyone else slept would have filled her with excitement. If only she weren't so shabbing tired.

Jorgan pushed the door the rest of the way open with his foot and another smell hit her, making Fynta's stomach growl. "You haven't eaten yet." It wasn't a question.

"I was getting to it," Fynta argued defensively. She sat cross-legged on the bed and motioned for him to take the chair across from her. "I thought I ordered you to get some rest, Lieutenant."

Fynta noted that he shut the door behind him, which Jorgan didn't normally do unless something was on his mind. "Have you ever had to share a room with a rancor sized Weequay and a Gand who buzzes in his sleep?"

A smile pulled at her lips. "That experience has eluded me thus far." Fynta held her hands out for the food. She didn't know, or care, what it was because she was ravenous and those steaming rations in Jorgan's hands were the only cure. "Did you get any sleep?"

"About an hour, I think," Jorgan answered with an amused smirk as she snatched the container from his grasp. "You?"

Fynta shoveled the food in, not bothering with proper table manners. "I was headed that way. Had to finish up those blasted reports."

"I can help with those, remember?" Jorgan crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. A reminder that, as her XO, he should bear some of the responsibility.

"You hate them as much as I do," Fynta countered, then looked down with dismay when her fork came up empty.

"How is your leg?" Jorgan asked, changing the subject. Fynta had taken a shot to the thigh from a White Maw pirate at close range. It had caused her whole leg to go numb. Jorgan had practically carried her out of that cave after they managed to snag the final component for Yuun. It was embarrassing.

Fynta stretched the leg in question in front of him, having put on her PT shorts, to reveal an unflattering purple and black bruise on her thigh roughly the size of Jorgan's hand. A fact she was all too aware of when he gently cradled her calf in one hand while sliding the hem of her shorts just a fraction higher with the other. The Cathar examined the mark with a frown before gliding his fingers down the back of Fynta's thigh and removing his hands to let the bruised limb hang over the bed. Leaving her frustratingly breathless.

Fynta regained control of her senses, pulling the still tingling leg back under her and meeting Aric's captivating eyes. "Sore, but mending. It shouldn't cause me any more problems." She nodded towards him, "How about you, that spot on your back looked pretty nasty." Jorgan had taken a direct hit between the shoulder blades attempting to get Fynta to cover. She'd seen his bruise when he got out of the shower.

"You were looking, huh?" Fynta nodded unabashedly. Jorgan chuckled and waved his hand, "It was superficial." Then he slipped into silence, jaw working back and forth.

Fynta knew that expression. He was wrestling with something again, trying to decide if the ideal time was now, or if he should wait. She had a hunch what it might be about too. "How's the elbow?" Fynta asked as a way to broach the topic. He'd smashed it on the weapon's rack when she'd gotten a little too rough in the armory during their first kiss.

Jorgan gave her a tight lipped smile of appreciation, the kind that made his eyes soften. "Better."

Fynta leaned forward, suddenly not as tired as before, propping her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hand. "You hit it pretty hard, maybe I should have a look at it." In her current state of mind, she'd do just about anything to feel his hands on her skin again.

To Fynta's surprise, Jorgan met her halfway, putting his face close to hers and straightening his arm past her head. "Seems to be working just fine." Neither of them looked at the arm, being locked in an unspoken game of who would blink first. Then Fynta felt his hand brush her shoulder, slipping under her hair, and sliding up the back of her neck. He didn't pull her closer as she expected, as she hoped, not yet. "Feels fine, too," he said quietly, his breath on her cheeks making her tremble.

Finally, just when Fynta was about to hurl herself at the infuriating Cathar, Jorgan pulled her into a genlte kiss that was no less passionate than the first. Fynta felt his sharp teeth scrape against her lips, but they didn't cut this time. His hand tightened in her hair when she pressed for more, realizing that he was holding back. Jorgan pulled away from her with an unmistakably mischievous smirk, Fynta couldn't decide if the expression suited him or if she wanted to wipe it off his face. He still holding her hair in a way that kept her from advancing, yet excited her at the same time. "I should let you rest," he rumbled, releasing her and picking up the empty food tray as he stood to leave. "Just wanted to make sure you had your fill first."

"Shabuir," Fynta growled after his retreating form, wondering when she'd let him gain such a powerful advantage in their relationship.

**Coruscant**  
**The Senate Tower  
** **440 Days after Ord Mantell**

Aric Jorgan stood in rest position and gingerly rolled his head, flexing the aching muscles in his neck and shoulders, while Fynta prepared the screen in the Thunderclap's conference room. He had fallen asleep in the chair in the main room, figuring he'd rest just as well there as with the ruckus in his own room. Now every muscle in his upper back was sore. Fynta had glared when she woke him to announce the time had come to get their armor on. Jorgan was quite pleased with the way he'd left things with her the night before, a little payback for more than a year of her antics. He'd grinned when she muttered a few insults in Mando'a. Unfortunately, stoic duty replaced merriment when Garza called to say that the coalition was ready to move immediately. Then there were hours of detailed meetings in the general's office that followed.

"You alright," Fynta asked with a grin, having finally gotten over her earlier moodiness. After a quick glance around, she leaned closer and lowered her voice. "I could help you work out those stiff muscles, you know."

For once, Jorgan didn't balk, just offered up his own smile of approval. "Might take you up on that once we finally get some leave." Fynta's eyebrows twitched upwards in surprise, as if his behavior the night before hadn't been confirmation enough as to his intentions. Jorgan was satisfied with by the dark look of desire in her eyes. He was reminded of what Cormac said after Jorgan admitted to giving Fynta the necklace. The big man had roared with laughter, stating that Jorgan should immediately marry any woman who requested explosives over jewelry. Jorgan decided that he wasn't going to find another woman like Fynta in this galaxy. Once the decision was made, he felt free.

They stared at one another a moment longer, Fynta quickly recovering to flash him a flirty grin as the rest of Havoc began to trickle into the room and take their seats around the conference table. Fynta waited until everyone was present, then hefted a bag onto the table in the midst of the gathered soldiers.

Vik was the first one on his feet, wearing the same stupid grin as Cormac. "Awe, boss. I knew you cared." The Weequay began rummaging through and pulling out a mixture of grenades, sweets, and a few pieces of expensive cheeses wrapped in cloth.

The captain stood there with hands on hips and smiled. "Alright, dig in while we start the briefing." She plucked a bag of candied nuts from Vik's hand and tossed them to Elara. Meanwhile, Jorgan stared at Fynta's profile, not missing the fact that she was blatantly refusing to meet his eyes now. There was a general undertone of unease in the conference room. Everyone knew Fynta usually treated them to delicacies such as these when she felt guilty, or if she had a bad feeling.

The captain caught her friend's eye and smiled, "Don't look so glum, Dorne. Right place, right time. Couldn't pass up a sale like that." When Jorgan pulled his attention to the medic, she was wearing the same somber expression as himself.

"Alright, let's get down to business, people. We move out in a little over half an hour." With a tap on her datapad, Fynta pulled up a diagram of the Imperial Battle Cruiser that housed the massive cannon. "This is the Gauntlet superweapon. It allows the Empire to attack ships traveling through hyperspace. This capability, if put to use, would give the Empire an insurmountable advantage. Basically, it makes our job a lot harder."

Fynta tapped the datapad again to bring up the slide that mapped out their plan of entry. "Fortunately, the technical data retrieved by Agent Prelion aided in determining a safe approach pattern that will get our forces within striking range."

Elara was staring intently at the map, candied nuts untouched. "Can you expand on the approach pattern, sir?"

Fynta nodded, "According to Supreme Commander Rans, the squints have run the numbers from the Imperial's readouts and determined the Gauntlet's minimum time to acquire and lock on a target. The battlegroup will approach the Gauntlet by making multiple, short hyperjumps, always remaining below the minimum lock on time."

Jorgan picked up there to point out the problems those jumps created. "Short, repeated hyperjumps are inefficient. Once we're in, the warships won't have enough fuel to return. Total victory is our only option."

Cormac was sneaking his hand closer to Elara's bag of sweets when he chimed in. "What's our objective once we reach the target area?" Dorne smacked his hand without peeling her eyes away from the data on the screen and Jorgan smirked.

If Fynta noticed, she didn't react this time. "When the attack begins, Lieutenant Coria's Safecrackers will immediately disable the planetary shield generator that protects the Gauntlet. Allowing us to board." Jorgan could see the man's wheels turning as he tried to recall why that name sounded familiar. The Safecrackers were a group Havoc had worked with previously. They'd busted into an Imperial vault on Quesh under bad intel and Havoc had in the sector when they called for backup. The Safecrackers were a good group and Lieutenant Coria had gotten along immediately with Fynta.

"Oh, he's that brown skinned Zabrak from Quesh," Cormac blurted, having abandoned snitching any of Dorne's snacks. "I liked him."

Fynta nodded before continuing, "Once we're aboard, we'll begin the demolitions operation. Yuun, your job is to get us past the security seals to the weapon's inner core."

"Yuun will not fail," the Gand dipped his head slightly before opening a small door on his metal breathing device to slide a piece of cheese in. Jorgan watched him in mild fascination, reminded of a large bug. Something about the multifaceted, large eyes on the sides of his head and the way he clicked when he spoke. Not to mention, the three long, jointed fingers that ended in claws and the jerky way he moved. Still, Yuun seemed like a well-rounded, likable guy. So, Jorgan would put more effort into seeing him as a soldier, instead of the insect likeness.

"After that," Fynta persisted. "Vik and I will make our way to the core and plant explosives at weak points, ensuring the Gauntlet's total destruction."

The Weequay grinned and hefted a grenade as if it were a boloball. "Now it's _your_ turn to keep _me_ alive, cap'."

"Only until you've placed the bombs, I can press the button all by myself," she replied, to which Vik chuckled again.

"That leaves Cormac, Dorne, and myself to hit the bridge," Jorgan said, returning his attention to Fynta. "Two, three man teams. One to download the intel, one to sabotage the ship. "

Fynta turned a steely gaze on him, her eyebrows furrowed. "Dorne," Fynta said without looking away, "How's our medical stash?"

"I have my kit and the medbay already prepared. Plus, I've received updated encryption files for our slicing equipment from Agent Balker." Elara smiled at Fynta, "You were correct, Captain. It is beneficial having a friend in the SIS."

Jorgan suppressed the involuntary wince at the SIS agent's name and refused to blink first in his staring match with Fynta. "Fine," she relented, looking back at her soldiers. "You three have the bridge. Elara, I trust you'll be able to keep these two mir'shebs alive." Dorne gave a stern nod, clearly missing the point of Fynta's joke.

Jorgan gave his captain a smug grin that grew slightly when she rolled her eyes. "Alright, eat up. We have a job to do."

**Orbit above Coruscant  
** **The Thunderclap**

Fynta angled the ship next to the one Admiral Numinn ordered, a battleship by the name of Devastator, and leaned over to answer the Holo on the console between she and Jorgan. "Captain, we are jumping in sixty seconds," A man said as soon as she accepted the transmission.

"Copy that."

The man nodded and vanished again, Fynta hadn't even gotten a good look at him. She leaned back in her seat and watched the Chrono countdown. "This should be interesting."

Fynta had never done short jumps, but Yuun programmed their various coordinates, so she was confident. That man was amazing with tech. He told her on the trip from Hoth to Coruscant that he could feel the various vibrations from the machines, thus, was better understand it. Fynta would just have to take his word for it. She was an adequate slicer and could hot wire the occasional speeder or fix a droid, but she preferred dismantling things, usually with large forces of kinetic energy.

"It worries me when you grin like that," Jorgan said, startling Fynta from her musing. "You ready for this?"

Fynta stretched and looked over at him with a smile. "Just another day on the job." Truth be told, she had a bad feeling. The same feeling she'd foolishly ignored on the asteroid prison. Only problem was, there was no way around it. Havoc Squad had to complete this mission, no matter the price.

Jorgan furrowed his eyebrow ridges at her. "This won't be Tavis's ship. It will be heavily guarded." He paused and Fynta waited for the inevitable speech about taking this seriously. Instead, his voice softened a fraction as he lowered it almost to a whisper. "Be careful."

Something had changed in the Cathar, he was still stern Aric Jorgan, but there was a note of real fear now. Not the standard concern for everyone's safety, but a vulnerability that creeps into a person's voice when they feel like everything is on the line.

Fynta nodded, "I will." It had never mattered before whether she lived through a mission. Suddenly, Fynta found she couldn't bear the thought of leaving Jorgan alone again. Not after he'd just started to truly live. "You do the same, cyare."

"Cyare?" The Chrono chirped and Jorgan's question took a backseat to the flurry of hyperspace jump procedures. Short jumps required more power, causing the Thunderclap to shake violently for a solid three minutes before finally smoothing out.

"Get your gear on, Jorgan. We'll be in hyperspace just under an hour," Fynta said, climbing over the chair. Jorgan followed her, grabbing her wrist before she reached the stairs. She could see everything he wanted to say playing out behind his eyes and knew the words would never make it to the surface. Lifting up onto her toes, Fynta brushed a light kiss across his lips. "We'll survive this too," she promised.

* * *

The last jump took two minutes. Blaster fire and explosions filled Fynta's viewport as soon as they dropped out of hyperspace. They were beautiful in the vacuum of space if you didn't take into account that it was a horrible way to die. "Everyone move!"

"Admiral Numinn is on the holo, sir," Jorgan announced over the intercom.

Fynta stopped at the center of the ship to hear the Zabrak out. "Havoc, this is Admiral Numinn, our battlegroup has exited hyperspace and engaged the Imperial escort ships. Defensive forces are as expected. Lieutenant Coria arrived at the head of the fleet and reports that the Safecrackers have penetrated the planetary shield generator." The transmission glitched and men started barking orders in the background as Numinn's ship came under fire. "You are clear to make your run on the Gauntlet. Good hunting."

Fynta saluted, "Give the Imperials hell, sir."

The man gave a courteous nod, as if this were no more than a training exercise. "We'll be in contact if anything develops. Numinn out." Fynta smiled to herself. Numinn was one of those stoic types who didn't get hyped up during a battle. She wondered if she would be that way at his age, then decided probably not.

"That was fast," Jorgan said from behind her.

Fynta nodded and slipped her helmet on. "Safecrackers got the job for a reason." She turned to yell at Yuun, who'd taken up the controls on the bridge. "Get us to the Gauntlet. We'll clear a path, then you follow."

Fynta joined the rest of her squad at the exit hatch, noting the way Cormac and Dorne had their heads together, whispering quietly. Fynta decided not to pry and took a casual step away to give them a few more moments of privacy.

"Breaching in three…two…one. The paths of fate are with us, we have arrived," Yuun answered over the comms. Cormac looked up at the speaker above him, then at Vik, who just shrugged. Yuun had a —unique— way of phrasing things.

Then the airlock opened and time slowed down as Havoc flooded into a large, grey hangar under a hail of blaster bolts and cannon volleys. Fynta watched the droids fall while simultaneously keeping an eye on her own men. She was both keenly aware of her surroundings while completely focused on whatever was at the end of her rifle barrel.

Vik was yelling and laughing, Cormac was hosing the room down with his hand cannon, while Jorgan had positioned himself at one of the doors and was firing single shots down the corridor. Yuun joined them shortly after they'd finished clearing the room and plugged into the first terminal. The doors parted, the time had come to split up.

Fynta grasped Jorgan's arm as they passed. "I'll see you soon."

"You bet," The Cathar nodded, then ran off with Cormac and Dorne, his promise ringing in her ears.

Vik and Yuun were already at the opposite door when Fynta joined them. "We have a way in yet?" The door opened as soon as the words left her lips. Vik took point and didn't stop firing until everything was dead. Even then, he fired a few more times just for kicks.

"We've got a panel up here on the right," Fynta instructed with a stiff wave as they entered the next room. "You're up, Yuun." She smashed an Imperial tech in the face with the butt of her rifle hard enough to hear his bones break. Then put two in his chest because she didn't want to have to worry about him being a problem later. Meanwhile, Vik had his rifle opened up on automatic.

"Yuun is finished with this terminal. We hunt on," the sergeant said in a calm tone.

There was a moment of quiet. Just a moment, before they entered the next room. The walls erupted in flames and they were met once more by a storm of blaster bolts. Fynta heard Vik swear.

"Are you hit?"

"I'm fine," he replied, and lobbed a grenade in the direction of the offending bolt. Men scattered, but not fast enough, coating the walls in a spray of fluids and globs that Fynta would rather not think about. One man had managed to get just far enough away to have his back shredded by shrapnel. His groans grabbed her attention. Fynta shook her head and stalked up to him, pressing the barrel of her rifle against the back of the Imperial's head, and squeezing the trigger. There was no honor in leaving a man to suffer like that.

When Fynta looked around for the Gand, he bent over another terminal at the far wall. Fynta wasn't sure exactly how he got over there, but the man knew what he was doing. Too late she saw the enemy sneaking towards Yuun, but before she could call out a warning, the Gand turned and fired his blaster point blank into the skull of the approaching Imperial. "More yet remain. All terminals must be disabled for access to the core section." Fynta just managed to contain her shock at the coldness of his actions while trying reconcile him with the quiet, kind creature they'd taken on board just a few days earlier.

"Good work, Yuun," Fynta said, putting her back against the wall and leaning around the doorframe to check the next corridor. "Let's move out and find the rest."

**The Gauntlet  
** **Main Bridge**

"Uh, Jorgan, how's that download going?" Cormac called over their private line from his position near the door.

"Slowly," Jorgan growled in return. He was crouched behind a pilot's chair that wasn't going to last much longer. He watched the line move slowly across his HUD, while Elara used every skill in her arsenal to speed up the process.

The bridge had been easy to clear initially, but one of the techs managed to send out an SOS before Jorgan could slot him. Now they had waves of Imperials hurling themselves against the three Havoc soldiers, and Jorgan wasn't sure how much longer they could hold out. _For as long as the ammo does_ , a small voice whispered in the back of his mind.

"Sir, I believe we are surrounded," Elara chimed in from her position at his back by the main computer terminal. She was the best with tech outside of Yuun, so it was down to Jorgan and Cormac to keep her covered. That put Balic at the door with his handcannon and Jorgan as a shield to protect the medic while she sliced into the system.

"Just focus on your task. Cormac and I have this," Jorgan assured her despite his own misgivings.

"Too right, boss." The blaster fire from Cormac's hand cannon resumed, interrupted only by a string of oaths in three different languages.

"Cormac?" Jorgan felt a bolt slam into his thigh. The pain rattled up into his teeth, but he couldn't think about it until he ensured Cormac was alright.

"I'll be alright, sir," the man grunted, then a massive, ear shattering blast caused Jorgan's helmet to automatically activate the built in noise dampeners. "I feel much better now."

"Damn it, Cormac. Don't do that again, we need these computers intact," Jorgan growled.

"I only damaged one," the big man replied with an air of disdain. "We don't even need that one."

Jorgan rolled his eyes and cast a glance over his shoulder at the overtly silent Dorne. "Let me know as soon as you have the intel, then we can frag these guys and get the hell back to the ship." Cormac's reckless explosive had bought them a moment of respite, and Jorgan used it to check on Fynta, telling himself it was just to see how her part of the mission was going.

However, when he tried the pull up her POV, the image was simply a black screen. Same for Yuun and Vik. Jorgan pulled up the squads vitals and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw all three heartbeats. Maybe their equipment was damaged, or perhaps a glitch in the system. Either way, Jorgan was reminded that he had his own problems when another bolt smashed into his shoulder. He quickly cleared his HUD to return fire. "I hope the captain is having better luck than we are."

**The Gauntlet  
** **Engineering Bay**

"Is this the last one, Yuun?"

The Gand nodded as he bent to his work. Vik had done thorough job of clearing the room and moved down the hall while Fynta stayed with Yuun. Fynta resisted the urge to reactivate the squad's POVs in the silence of the moment, but she knew overriding them had been the right call. Jorgan was an able bodied leader and she couldn't afford for either of them to be distracted by situations they had no control over.

Fynta heard the signature clanking of large droid feet against the steel floor. They'd been at this for nearly forty minutes and Fynta didn't want to draw any more attention. So she crouched behind a broken rail and shot an electric tripwire across the droids path. As soon as the metal legs touched the wire it went rigid as the current flowed through and shorted out all its circuits. Fynta hadn't taken chances by leaving survivors, and this droid would not be her first exception. So, she circled around the hunk of metal while it twitched on the ground and shot it a few times through what might be considered its head.

Yuun returned from the terminal and considered the droid on the floor before speaking. "Thus our path is cleared, Captain. The seals withholding the inner core are removed. The operation can proceed."

"Couldn't have done it without you, Yuun." Fynta looked around. "Where did Vik get to?" It was like watching a toddler. A big toddler with a big gun.

Activating her comms, Fynta hailed the Weequay. "Vik, come in. The seals are disabled. Rendezvous at the core access door ASAP. Over." If he wanted to run off, then she wasn't chasing him. She'd be put out if he got himself killed before completing his part of the mission, though.

"That ugly bug got you through after all, huh?" Fynta could hear blaster fire in the background. "Heading for the door, Vik out."

Fynta turned on her heel and thundered down the hall, her boots making more noise now that everything was dead, with Yuun directly behind her. The doors opened to reveal Tanno Vik standing with his feet planted shoulder width apart in the middle of the large corridor, firing on full auto, and screaming curses at the Imperials via his external comm unit. One charged and Vik put his boot into the man's face, then stood on his back until he stopped squirming. The Weequay never stopped firing. Fynta had to hand it to him, the man had style.

The shooting stopped and Fynta stood there with her arms crossed. "There you are." Vik's helmet turned towards her and she could tell he was grinning behind his faceplate. He propped his gun on his shoulder, "We ready to finish this, or should I pop out for a drink?"

As much as Fynta wanted to hate the di'kut, he reminded her of home. "Too bad the Imps didn't put a bar in this thing. Could use a break." Vik chuckled and Fynta turned back to the third member of their party, "Sergeant Yuun, make your way back to the ship and have it ready for departure. Stay sharp. We are almost done."

"Understood, Captain. Yuun wishes you good fortune in your coming task. Farewell." The Gand bowed his head and jogged back down the hall. Fynta always felt the need to protect the Gand; he was so different, so quiet and wise. Then he'd shoot and Imperial in the head and calmly walk away, and Fynta reminded herself that he was a trained commando. No different from others.

"This way, Boss." Vik held out his hand in a ladies first gesture.

Fynta opened a line to check in with Jorgan. "How are you two holding up?"

The sound of battle answered her before Jorgan did. "Dorne's almost completed the download. How about you?" Fynta could hear the unspoken accusation in his voice about his lack of access to her POV.

"Vik and I are heading down to set the bombs, Yuun will have the ship ready to go when we return." It felt odd sharing operation intel with Jorgan this way, normally, he was at her side. Usually telling her not to do something stupid.

"Understood. Be careful, sir," Jorgan said before cutting the line. Fynta couldn't quite find it in herself to smile at the irony. His voice sounded tight, business like. Like it had when they first met. That didn't sit well with Fynta.

**The Gauntlet  
** **Main Bridge**

"Good news," Jorgan said. "The captain and Sergeant Yuun have crossed the first hurdle, now all that remains is for Vik to set the charges."

Balic grunted a response. "Good, maybe we can get our shebs out of here soon." He'd taken to swearing in Mando'a lately, it just felt more solid.

The bridge assault had gone wrong from the beginning, but Cormac doubted that Jorgan mentioned it to Fynta. The Cathar was too stubborn and proud to admit when he needed backup, especially to his lady. Those two were more alike than they wanted to believe. Speaking of which. Balic opened a line to Elara, "Hey doll, how are you holding up over there?"

"Nearly complete. Lieutenant Jorgan has effectively shielded me from the worst," Elara replied, her voice calm and collected. Cormac decided he'd by the guy a couple of drinks for being such a capable meat shield, maybe some bandages too.

The line automatically clicked over when Yuun activated the main line. "Many dark shapes lurk in the back of Yuun's mind and the ship's sensors confirm. More Imperials are making their way to your location. Yuun would offer caution and suggest a retreat."

"Great," Jorgan muttered in reply. "This whole thing's a bust if they can't get all of those bombs set. Right now, we have their attention, so we aren't pulling out until we get the all clear from Fynta." There was a pause. "Dorne, how's that download coming?"

"Just completed, sir."

"I'll contact the captain," Jorgan responded. "Yuun, make sure those engines are ready. We are going to have to bug out fast."

**The Gauntlet  
** **Reactor Core**

"This place is too quiet," Vik complained while they were setting the third and final bomb.

Fynta was keeping lookout while the Weequay knelt to his work. "Yeah, because the twenty Imps we just cut through weren't enough." She agreed, however. This part of the ship should be swarming with technicians and guards, but they had only met a few handfuls of resistance. The reactor itself was unmanned, throwing a red light across everything, and the echoing silence made Fynta's skin crawl.

Vik stood and admired his work, "Last one, let's blow this place and get back to Coruscant and the many thankful citizens of the Republic." Fynta simply shook her head, no doubt the Weequay would be destitute again after he finished celebrating.

Her comm clicked in her ear. "Captain. It's Jorgan." There was still a lot of blaster fire in the background, too much. "Big trouble up on the bridge. We have the data, but Imperial reinforcements just showed up. A lot more than we can hold off, sir. Are the bombs planted? Can we pull out?"

What little relief Fynta might have felt at hearing his voice evaporated at the thought of Aric Jorgan requesting a retreat. Fynta steeled herself to respond. "Our objective is complete, I want you all back on the ship on the double."

"Roger that. Cormac, let's go!" The blaster fire in the background was almost louder than Jorgan now. He swore and cut the comm.

"That means us too, Vik." Fynta had already begun running, restarting the protocols to reactivate their POVs. She'd be damned if she was going to lose a man after they'd completed their mission.

**The Gauntlet  
** **Atrium**

Jorgan took another shot to the leg and felt sinew tear. He grit his teeth against the pain and as he dove for cover. They'd managed to fight their way off the bridge only to get separated in a large room filled with dusty computer terminals. Jorgan and Dorne were pinned down, while Cormac tried to work his way back after the Imps had blown the door to seal off their escape route. Jorgan had an idea how to get around it, but it wasn't one he liked. It was something Fynta would probably suggest and was likely to get him killed because he wasn't as lucky as her.

"Sir, I must insist that you reconsider, I do not think it will work," Dorne said again.

"I've seen the captain do it twice," he replied, popping up long enough to pick off two more Imperial soldiers and to see significantly more coming in behind them.

"With all due respect, Fynta has a way of pulling off the impossible." Dorne was crouched behind a terminal across the room, firing sporadically at the advancing Imperials while trying to make him see reason.

"It's our only shot, Dorne. When you get a clear path, make for the ship," Jorgan snarled as he did one last inventory check of his remaining supplies. An eerie stillness fell over him, a sense of inevitability. At least he'd been able to keep the Imps away from Fynta, and Elara would get away with the data, their overall mission was a success. "Cormac, make sure she gets there."

"Sir—"

"That's an order." Jorgan cut them both off with those three words.

Taking a deep breath, Jorgan broke cover and ran towards the group of Imperials blocking the only exit. They paused, momentarily startled by his blatant offensive, but when they regained their composure it felt like being punched everywhere at once. Jorgan hurled a grenade into the densely packed commandos and kept running, keeping everyone's attention on him instead of the time bomb at their feet. When it detonated, he was blown backward, hitting the floor hard and knocking the wind out of him.

Jorgan's head was spinning, but was aware enough to realize someone had his collar and that his body was sliding across the floor. It only took a few seconds for him to figure it out. "Damn it, Dorne, I said get to the ship," he growled.

"I am, sir. With yo—"

Jorgan was jerked violently to the side, then rolled repeatedly across the floor as another pressure wave pushed him. His brain was trying to make sense of what his eyes were seeing. Elara had been standing just above him, then she wasn't, and Jorgan was a long way from where he'd started.

"Dorne?" Jorgan scrambled to his feet. The whole room was on fire and Imperial bodies littered the floor. "Elara?" Despite the agony in his own limbs and torso, Jorgan started flipping over anything that looked like it wasn't flat against the floor in a frantic attempt to find the medic. Finally, he spotted a blue and grey boot behind one of the wrecked terminals.

"Jorgan, report." It was Fynta's voice. Glancing up, he saw that the POVs were back up and that she was running down mostly empty hallways. Ignoring his commanding officer momentarily, Jorgan pulled up the program that monitored the squad's vitals.

"Sir, is she. . . ." Cormac's question trailed off quietly.

"Alive. Have the Medbay ready to receive her, Cormac." There was an audible sigh of relief from the big man before the comm cut.

Jorgan scrambled over to kneel next to Elara's unresponsive form. His options were to move Dorne and risk further injury or try to get medical aid brought to them. A blaster bolt smashed into the floor by Jorgan's boot, making the decision for him. There was no way that they could stay here. "Hold on, Sergeant, I'm getting you out of here."

Carefully, Jorgan pulled her arm around the back of his neck, braced his shoulder into her chest plate, and climbed to his feet. Sidearm in hand, Jorgan began firing as he ran, while his free hand wrapped around the back of Elara's thighs to keep her from sliding off his shoulder. There were no more plans, Jorgan just ran, doing his best to jar the wounded woman as little as possible.

**The Thunderclap**

Vik was breathing heavily in Fynta's ear when they rounded the corner to the airlock and pounded up the ramp. "We're in, let's get moving!" Fynta called, pulling her helmet free. She slid to a stop when she saw Cormac and Jorgan kneeling over Elara in the floor in the main room. Fynta had been watching the scene unfold from roughly the time Dorne was hit. It had been torture not to pester Jorgan for constant updates as he as he carried their medic through the wreckage.

The drives kicked on, sending familiar vibrations through Fynta's boots as the Thunderclap began its escape "Captain," Jorgan breathed as he got to his feet. "It's good to see you back, it's a mess out there." There was real relief in his voice.

"You did good, Jorgan." Fynta patted his arm as she knelt to take the vacated spot next to Elara on the floor. The woman's helmet was tossed to the side, her hair loose and eyes shut tightly.

Jorgan was staring down at their young medic with his hands on his hips. "I'd be dead if not for her. Damn woman's as stubborn as you are."

Fynta spared a glance at Cormac, who had yet to speak. His face was set with the grim determination of a man who was only allowing himself to focus on the task at hand. When Fynta looked back up, she noted that Vik was still standing in the entrance to the airlock, scowling down at Elara. Fynta was pretty sure he liked the medic, even if he wouldn't admit to it.

Jorgan sighed, "It's all a little hazy, but I think she was hit with some kind of RPG."

Fynta brushed some of the blond hair out of Elara's face, "What's her status?" Dorne needed the medbay, but Fynta didn't know what medical procedures had already been completed.

"She's pretty banged up, boss," Cormac answered, his voice steadier than Fynta expected. "I think it's safe to move her, but we need to get the armor off so I can run a more thorough scan." Fynta supposed it made sense that Balic would have picked up a few tidbits of useful information after so long watching Elara in the Medbay.

"Come on, let's get her off the floor, you too Vik, I don't want to jostle her too much." Fynta waved the men into position, Vik and Jorgan supporting her torso, while Fynta kept her head straight. The three followed Cormac into the sterile room and laid Dorne on the table. Vik disappeared, then returned with the scanner, laying it on the counter and leaving without a word. Reaffirming Fynta's belief that deep down, he could be a decent guy.

"She told me it was a bad plan, but I didn't listen." Jorgan spoke in a subdued tone as he shut the door and began unclasping the locks on Dorne's boots. Fynta could tell the guilt was eating away at him. "I was trying to clear an opening and dazed myself in the process. She came after me instead of exploiting the window." He was speaking quickly, as if it were his final confession.

Suddenly, Fynta realized Jorgan wasn't talking to her. He was coming clean to Cormac.

"Should've known she'd disobey that order to retreat," Cormac replied, dropping the pauldrons onto the floor.

For a few minutes, no one spoke. The only sound was the systematic hiss of seals and the clunking of beskar against the floor. Then Jorgan snorted. "I don't think she would have left me behind if I'd shot her myself."

That pulled a halfhearted chuckle from Cormac. "That's my girl."

Fynta offered a weak smile and they continued removing the armored plates in silence. She felt the ship shift under her feet again and Yuun's voice came over the intercom. "Captain, Yuun has contacted Admiral Numinn, he awaits your report."

"I'll take it in here, Yuun," Fynta said without looking up.

Fynta dropped the wrist guard onto the pile of beskar along with the other plates just as the holo of the admiral appeared on a small, countertop holo. "Attack group, this is Havoc. Objective complete, all ships evacuate to minimal safe distance."

"We copy, Havoc. All ships clear, proceed with detonation," Admiral Numinn responded, his brows furrowing in concern as he took in Havoc's surrounding and the prone figure on the medtable. He was polite enough to keep any remarks to himself, however.

"You're on Vik," Fynta called to the Weequay, who had sequestered himself to one of the chairs in the main room just outside the Medbay. Vik held up the detonator and his eyes fell on Dorne. " _Boom_ ," he rasped. Three seconds later the Thunderclap shook from the shockwave.

**Coruscant**  
**443 Days after Ord Mantell  
** **Medcenter for Wounded Soldiers**

Elara was aware of hushed voices nearby. It was odd that she could hear them over the sounds of blaster fire and explosion. Jorgan's body was laying on the floor, she couldn't leave him, he was her friend. How would she ever look Fynta in the eye again? Elara had been relieved when he started berating her for coming back for him. Then something hit her, harder than she'd ever thought possible. She heard Jorgan calling out to her but she couldn't help him. Elara knew she was seriously injured, she estimated her odds of survival at twenty percent, her only regret before falling into unconsciousness was that she wouldn't see Balic again.

When Elara opened her eyes, Balic was the first face she saw. He was looking to his right and nodding, then back at her and he smiled, "Hey, doll." Someone squeezed her hand and Elara fought to clear the fog of her medication. Her body was slowly beginning to remember its various injuries, and Elara systematically self-diagnosed. Her head was bandaged, indicating head trauma, her right arm was held in a rigid cast, her abdomen was sore and bloated, meaning she had likely experienced some internal injuries, and her leg was quite sore, but not wrapped. Adding to that a number of minor injuries.

"Balic? What are you doing here?" Her voice rasped, she was incredibly thirsty, a side effect of prolonged catalepsy. A quick look around indicated she was in a medcenter, most likely on Coruscant.

"Had to make sure my girl was alright. You gave us all a scare." Balic stood and fussed with her blanket, then accepted a glass of water from Fynta. Elara hadn't realized it, but both Jorgan and Fynta were in the room too. Balic put the glass to her lips and tipped it. The water was cold and soothing, possibly the most delicious thing she had ever tasted.

"I apologize, sir," Elara said once her thirst was quenched. "I disobeyed a direct order, but I would do it again."

"I'm just glad you're alright," Jorgan muttered from his chair in the corner.

"Think she's up to it?" Fynta asked. Balic simply shrugged.

"Sir?" Elara felt a familiar nervousness that she experienced every time Fynta was being vague.

Fynta was standing by the bed, smiling down and holding something in her hand. "It is my great pleasure to inform you that you have received the Medal of Valor, for wounds received in the line of duty, and have been promoted to the rank of lieutenant. Congratulations, Lieutenant Elara Dorne."

Elara gaped at her commander. "A promotion?"

"We all got them," Jorgan added, fingering the new insignia on his collar, the rank of captain. Which meant Fynta was now a major.

"Yep, apparently destroying the Empire's superweapon fast tracks your career." Fynta was still grinning, until her wrist comm chirped. "I'm sorry, Elara, I've put the general off long enough. I've got to meet with her, but I wanted to see you awake first." Then she glanced at Cormac, "But I'm leaving you in good hands."

Balic hadn't taken his eyes off her, Elara felt guilty for putting him through that, he must have been a complete wreck. "Of course, sir. I understand."

Fynta saluted, "Rest up and heal, _Leftenant_." The woman winked, having a go at Elara's accent, then thumped Jorgan on the shoulder, "Come on, let's give these two some space."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> jetiise [JAY-tee-see] Jedi plural, Republic
> 
> shabuir [SHAH-boo-EER] jerk
> 
> mir'sheb [MEER-sheb] smartass
> 
> di'kut [DEE-koot] idiot, useless individual, waste of space (lit. someone who forgets to put their pants on)


	22. Rest & Relaxation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've about caught up with myself on editing. So the next few chapters will be posted in rapid succession because I'm just too lazy to re-edit them all again.

**The Thunderclap  
** **444 Days after Ord Mantell**

The final vote tallied four to two in favor of Nar Shaddaa being the desired leave destination. Surprisingly, Dorne had voted in favor of it too, though Jorgan was sure there had been some bribery involved. But a vote was a vote, so Havoc Squad was headed back to the Hutt controlled moon at light speed after debriefing Garza on their latest op. A simple hostage extraction that ended with General Rakton on the holo with a bunch of Republic politicians. Fynta had shot the terminal, then spent a solid hour complaining about it being a poor substitute for the real thing.

Later, Jorgan found Fynta in her room, sprawled across the bed on her stomach, with an amused grin plastered on her face. "What's so funny?" He asked, leaning against the doorframe, unable to ignore the way her pants hugged her curves.

Fynta beckoned to him, surrendering her datapad while scooting over to allow Jorgan room sit at the end of her bed. It was a message from Balkar and the Cathar was instantly annoyed. "Just read it," she said, rolling her eyes.

_I hear someone wrecked the Imps' new toy and got a big, shiny promotion out of it. Is it tough being the most desirable woman in the Republic or do these things just come naturally?_

_Seriously though, great work. I can't imagine where we'd be without you. Drop me a line the next time you're on my planet._

_Jonas._

Jorgan handed the device back, not bothering to hide the note of annoyance in his voice. "So, that's why you voted Nar Shaddaa?"

"What?" Fynta blinked up at him in confusion, then shook her head, "No. Absolutely not." A devilish grin slid into place and Jorgan's pulse shot up. "I chose it for . . . other reasons." She left the innuendo hanging between them and went back to scrolling over the information on the device.

Jorgan was on the verge of asking about these _other reasons_ when Yuun announced they would be dropping out of hyperspace in a way that only Yuun could. Both Jorgan and Fynta looked up at the speaker in her room as the Gand droned on about the energies of the stars and pathways clearing.

Fynta rolled off the bed and brushed past Jorgan, her hand sliding into his as she pulled him to his feet. "You don't have plans for the evening, do you?" She asked, standing close enough to be just short of pressing her chest against him. Jorgan had to fight against the urge to slip his arm around her.

"Should I?"

Fynta's eyebrow rose, along with the corner of her mouth, as she stood up on her toes. Jorgan thought she was going to kiss him, a risky move with an open door. However, Fynta simply put herself as close to eye level with him as she could, grinned, then dropped back onto her heels and disappeared through the door. Jorgan took a shaky breath before following.

He found Fynta at the airlock after ensuring the Thunderclap was securely stowed. She was counting off fingers while Vik stood with his arms crossed. "No damaging property, no urinating in public, absolutely no mentioning which squad you're with—" Vik chuckled at that last one. "And if you end up in jail again, you're staying there."

"Alright, alright. I'll be good, boss."

Vik turned down the ramp and Fynta called after him, "And Vik—" he stopped at the bottom and turned to look up at her. "Tip the poor girl well." The Weequay threw his head back in laughter and kept going. Again, Jorgan marveled at the odd relationship those two had. One existing mostly on violence and insults.

Jorgan stepped up beside Fynta as they watched the big demolitions expert saunter off. "Where are the others?"

"Well, Cormac hauled Dorne off as soon as the airlock opened and I'm honestly not sure where Yuun went," she answered without looking up. Yuun often sought solitude to meditate and further his path as a Findsmen. It was something none of them understood, but all respected. Fynta took a deep breath and snatched her duffle off the floor. "Are you ready?"

Jorgan glanced at her with a note of apprehension. "For what?"

**Nar Shaddaa  
Slippery Slopes Cantina**

Elara Dorne enjoyed this planet. It was one where both Empire and Republic were tolerated, if not openly welcomed, and she could speak without attracting attention to herself. Normally, she would have voted Coruscant along with Jorgan, but Balic swore that this was important to Fynta and Elara valued her friendship with the other woman. Even if the major and Balic seemed to be closer at times. It was understandable, Elara knew he reminded Fynta of her brother, which was a void she understood all too well.

Elara Dorne stood at the bar contemplating her own brother, Aleksie, who was now officially labeled as a defector. The barkeep, a large Besalisk male, lumbered down and showed her a mouthful of flat teeth in a gaping smile, derailing her train of thought. "What can I get you, sweetheart? A pretty little thing like yourself shouldn't be drinking alone," he bellowed, propping one of his four hands on the bar.

"Oh, she won't be drinking alone." Balic threw an arm over her shoulders, careful of the sling that held her right arm, and kissed the top of her head. The barkeep winked and toddled back down the bar with their order, swinging his impressive girth side to side. "Imagine the nerve," Balic said in mock offense. "Thinking a girl like you wouldn't have a date."

"Were it not for Havoc Squad, there is a high probability that I wouldn't," Elara answered. Her life had certainly gone in an unexpected direction. Just under two years ago she was merely an outcast who convinced herself each night before bed that she'd made the best decision by defecting. Then, as luck would have it, she happened to be submitting a report when a pushy young woman and an irritable Cathar entered the ops room on Taris. That fateful report had given Elara a family again, and a man who cherished her.

Balic leaned his elbows against the counter, bringing him down to her height, and fished a foil wrapped box out of his jacket pocket. "I never got around to giving you a proper gift after everything. Figured it was overdue." The box was dwarfed in a hand that could crush skulls, yet had always caressed her so gently. "Go on," he said, pushing it closer.

Elara took the box and carefully peeled back the paper before lifting the lid. Inside was an intricately woven droid and she found herself instantly smiling at the little figurine. "Project B," she said. Gearbox's superweapon on Alderaan. The detail was astounding, all the way down to the cannons on top.

"The mission that introduced me to you," he replied, still leaning against the counter, his eyes warm and smile genuine. "It's made from the leftover wiring and filament from mine and Vik's toys. I figured there wasn't a book out there you haven't read, and we can't wear rings in our line of work, so I thought something from my own two hands would might do in their place."

Elara looked up from the figurine. W _ear rings, why would we need rings?_ Her normally quick mind seized up completely as the implications of his casual remark struck her. Her heart thumped excitedly in her chest when she saw the almost sheepish expression on his face. Balic Cormac was proposing.

In an entirely inappropriate display of affection, Elara closed her fingers carefully around the small droid replica and threw her arms around Balic's neck, crushing her mouth to his. The unexpected force unbalanced him, knocking the large man into a barstool that clattered to the floor, likely drawing the attention of onlookers. Elara didn't care. Just this once she shed her normally strict view on public affection.

Balic's hand rested on her hip while his other flattened against the bar for balance. When Elara pulled back, his smile was one of boyish glee. "That a yes?"

"It is," she breathed, her hands coming to rest on his face with a sense of joy she had never experienced before.

Balic's grin grew wider before pulling her back in for another kiss. "You sure know how to make a man smile, doll," he whispered just as their drinks arrived. The Besalisk offered another wink before sauntering away. Then Balic chuckled. "Think that's what happened in the armory?"

The man had teased the captain mercilessly about the incident that neither Fynta nor Jorgan would openly admit to. Elara smiled, "Yes, knowing Fynta, it probably was."

Balic scooped up one of the glasses. "Here's to our friends, the insanity they bring into our lives, and a bright future."

Elara raised her own, a feeling of giddiness overcoming her as she sipped at the contents. Balic was leaning against the counter again, something he did often when it was just the two of them. Elara hypothesized that it was because he was so much taller than her. His brown eyes were soft as they spoke of their plans and he regaled her with humorous stories of all the different ways he had planned to propose.

Perhaps it was the alcohol, or maybe the rush of realizing that this man was to become her husband, but Elara was feeling suddenly playful. She rested her hand on his forearm, rubbing the knotted muscles gently, and pressed herself into the back of his arm. Balic set his drink down slowly and raised an eyebrow at her.

"Perhaps we should go somewhere a little quieter." Her words caused a grin to spread across his face and his eyes grew darker with desire. "I have an idea how to begin our leave."

Balic tossed a credit chip onto the bar and put his arm around her shoulders again. "I'm all yours, doll."

 **Residential Sector** **  
Apartment 215**

Jorgan found himself standing on the landing platform of a building in the residential sector of Nar Shaddaa. Fynta was discussing payment with their third cab driver, having swapped twice already, claiming it was just in case. Ret'lini. Jorgan couldn't imagine living his life with that level of suspicion, no matter how much of a cynic he may be. Fynta hadn't been forthcoming on their way over either, which had given Jorgan too much time to think and the ideas that tumbled through his mind weren't exactly professional.

"Shall we?" Fynta asked, appearing at his side. She activated the biometric lock and stepped through the wide, glass doors into a small foyer that led down a few stairs into a sitting room.

The room was clean and precisely decorated with artwork from all over the galaxy. The most notable being a piece from the Mandalorian Wars that hung directly across from the entranceway. Jorgan recognized the style as being rendered by a famous Naboo artist. It showed Mandalore the Brave holding a steel sword above a burning world, symbolizing his victory in uniting the clans.

Jorgan did his best to ignore in implications of Mandalorian clans uniting and moved on to the next display, which happened to be a fully stocked weapons cabinet. He paused briefly to examine the contents through the blaster proof glass, noting that many of them were quite exotic, however, none were polished for display. Each weapon in the case was functional, with scratches and dings as proof of its use.

Their boots thumped against hardwood floor as Jorgan followed Fynta into a sitting room with plush, red sofas and black coffee tables. The overall décor was disturbingly Imperial until he reminded himself that it might be meant to be representative of was a familiarity with which Fynta moved through this place, completely at ease. The artwork, pilfered weapons, biometric locks. Jorgan was beginning to get an idea of where they were and it made him uneasy. This place had all the makings of a bounty hunters hideout.

Fynta dropped her bag on one of the chairs and continued into a small kitchen where groceries were already piled on the counter. "Oh good, they came through."

"Who?" Jorgan asked, still taking in his surroundings, noting every detail. He was sure he already knew the answer.

"Cinlat and Verin," she replied as if it should have been obvious.

Jorgan snorted. "I didn't think bounty hunters laid down roots," he said as a gentle indication that her brother and sister's apartment was the last place he planned on being tonight. He might have come around to the idea of Fynta being a Mandalorian, but the rest were still the enemy. Especially while they worked for the Empire.

Fynta looked up from examining a box of vegetables and smiled. "They didn't, this is my home." Jorgan just barely kept his mouth from falling open while she took in the room with a wistful expression. "I got tired of the shabby places they put me while I was working with the SIS and Verin and Cinlat needed a headquarters, so we went in together for this place."When Fynta pulled her eyes back to him, they were soft. "It's under an alias, of course. No one knows it's here. Including the Republic military."

Jorgan nodded, still a little dumbstruck that the major had a permanent address. He gazed around with new eyes, this was Fynta's sanctuary, the one place in the galaxy where she didn't feel the need to watch her back. Suddenly, Jorgan wanted to explore, to find out if he could learn anything new about her. This place undoubtedly supported the latest in security and he was sure there would weapons stashed in more places than the obvious case. Still, Jorgan felt a measure of something he couldn't quite explain at the fact that she'd shown this to him.

"So what's all of this?" He asked, motioning to the food spread out across the counter.

Fynta's relaxed smile turned flirty as she began to remove her cover. "This, Captain, is our next mission." Jorgan watched Fynta peel her jacket off with a raised brow. "I'm going to fix you dinner." He felt his brow arch higher. When they'd discussed her ability to cook during the Deadeye rescue, he'd thought she was joking. He really should have known better.

"Need some help?" He asked awkwardly. Apart from his mother, he'd never had a woman cook him dinner before. Especially not a woman who could probably kill him with the stirring spoon she was tapping against her chin. The image of Fynta fending off attackers, child on her hip and armed only with a pan, came unbidden, bringing with it a silent chuckle.

The knife she produced from a drawer made a more convincing image. "After what you said about your cooking skill? No." Then Fynta nodded towards a bottle at the end of the counter. "You can open that, though."

Jorgan picked it up, recognizing the shape of the glass before he even saw the label. It was Corellian whiskey, his favorite. "This is nice," he said, holding the bottle aloft.

Fynta flashed him a sly grin over her shoulder as she dumped some freshly chopped vegetables into a pot. "You haven't seen anything yet." Jorgan simply stared at her as she went back to chopping, panic and desire waring within. "It's imported from the Dealer's Den on Coruscant. So we'll see if those buddies of yours were right." Jorgan shook himself and took a deep breath. He vaguely remembered being told that dump of a cantina on the city world was rumored to have the best whiskey in the galaxy. They hadn't been near the Dealer's Den since their first mission together. Had she really been sitting on that nugget of information so long?

 _She used to be SIS_ , a little voice reminded him. Information was everything to those people.

Pushing that thought aside, Jorgan broke the seal and poured two glasses, offering one to Fynta before taking a robust swig himself. The alcohol burned down his throat, spreading out as it hit his stomach to provide a warm haze. He glanced up from watching the liquid swirl in his glance to find Fynta gazing at him over the rim of her own and his pulse surged ahead of the calming effects of the whiskey. Jorgan drained his glass and went back for a second. He was going to need all the courage he could muster tonight.

* * *

After dinner, Jorgan groaned as he sank into the cushions of the sofa. "I may just sleep here tonight," he murmured, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. Fynta had already made it clear that there was no need for him to find a hotel. Fynta's throaty laugh made him lift his head again, his breath catching in his throat. She'd settled on the sofa beside him, her eyes backlit by longing. Jorgan just stared at her, unable to form intelligible words as he lost himself in her dark blue depths.

Fynta propped her elbow on the back of the couch and leaned her head against her fist, blond braid falling over her shoulder. "Got something on your mind, soldier?"

"You could say that," Jorgan replied at last. In fact, it had been on his mind for more than a year. He sighed and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Being a soldier isn't just what I do, it's who I am. And I'm good at it." Jorgan paused, considering how best to word his well-intended warning. "But when it comes to women, relationships… that's where things get messy for me." He'd run more than a few off with his _lack of commitment_. The mission had always come first, always would.

Fynta favored him with a smile and reached out to pat his arm. "I understand a thing or two about messy relationships."

Jorgan shook his head, deciding he didn't want to hear about Fynta's exploits any more than he wanted to discuss his own. Still, she had waited almost two years, maybe this time it could be different. "Point is," he continued, "I've never met a woman who got me the way you seem to." The rustling of fabric made him turn to face her. The intensity in her eyes reminded Jorgan what he'd come here to say tonight, that something _was_ different this time. "I've sacrificed a lot for the Republic, and I'll keep on giving as long as I can. But for all the rules and regulations telling me otherwise, you're the one thing I'll never give up."

Fynta shifted her position, sliding one knee across Jorgan's legs to settle in his lap with her hands clasped around the back of his neck. He did his best to relax as she leaned forward, pushing him back into the cushions. Putting her face close to his, Fynta kissed the bridge of his nose. Jorgan's hands balled into fists at his sides as she placed several more playful kisses, stopping at his lips. "It'll take an army pry me away from you," she added, her voice just barely above a whisper.

Jorgan's heart was hammering, but it wasn't fear. Lifting a hand, he tugged the binding that secured her braid free and gently unraveled the long hair. He'd always wondered if it was as soft as it looked. His movements became more sure when Fynta didn't object, just watched his fingers work. Letting the now freed locks tumble over her shoulders and back, Jorgan slid his hands up her arms to rest behind her head, tangling his fingers in her hair, and pulling her into a passionate kiss. Something brushed his fingertips and he realized it was the chain to the necklace he'd given her. Jorgan held her tighter.

Fynta arched her back in response, pressing herself closer. Jorgan inhaled her scent, memorizing it while his hands wandered up the back of her shirt, reveling in the feeling of the toned muscles now exposed to his touch. Fynta trailed more sultry kisses from his jawline onto his neck, nipping playfully and pulling a growl from him. The sharp scrape of her teeth sent heat rolling through his chest that doubled in intensity and spread rapidly when she rocked her hips against him, humming under her breath.

Fynta's fingers were deftly working their way through the buttons of his jacket before sliding her hands back up his chest to push it off his shoulders. All without pulling her lips from his skin. Jorgan's respiration had reached a steady pant by the time felt her hot breath on his ear.

"Still want to sleep on the couch?"

* * *

Jorgan's answering reply came as a strangled groan when she bit the tip of his ear. Fynta's entire body quivered at the sound. His hands held her tightly, rolling his hips to match hers. Fynta decided it was time for a new venue when his tongue flicked against the hollow of her throat, setting every nerve in her body on fire.

When she pulled away, rising to her feet in one fluid motion, Fynta couldn't help but be pleased by the wild look of desire in Jorgan's eyes. Taking his hand, she pulled him off the sofa, intent on getting him down the hallway and into her bedroom as fast as possible. The Cathar surprised her by wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her tight against him, her back to his chest, to plant firm kisses along the back of her neck. Pushing her hair aside to gain better access to the sensitive skin.

His hands slid under her shirt and over her stomach, setting her skin on fire. "Not here," she gasped. No, she'd waited too long for this moment for a quick tussle on the couch. This meant something; Aric meant something more. Fynta could feel his breath on her ear, the rapid rise and fall of his chest and stomach against her back as he grudgingly loosened his hold.

Fynta twisted in his arms, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him along. She was careful to not break contact, kissing whatever was exposed. His throat, the bottom of his jaw, his lips. Fynta was surprised to get a soft gasp from him when she traced her tongue on the inside of his wrist as she pulled him the rest of the way down the hall.

The bedroom was nothing spectacular. A tidy space with a few pieces of artwork and a large bed. Fynta's favorite aspect was the view of the skyline and the way the neon lights danced across the walls. When she turned, Jorgan wasn't taking in the view. His eyes were solely fixed on her and the hunger Fynta saw in them made her knees weak.

Jorgan slid one hand against her lower back, making another attempt at removing her shirt. This time, Fynta let him, and dropped her head back so that he could trail fiery kisses over her collarbone, letting his breath tickle wherever his lips weren't touching. Fynta might have moaned, which generally wasn't something she did involuntarily, but the feel of Aric's hands on her newly exposed skin was making it difficult to form coherent thoughts. She should be terrified by this loss of self-awareness. Instead, she let herself be swept up in the intoxicating feeling of surrendering control. Not once in all the years since she lost her clan had Fynta trusted anyone as much as she trusted the man in front of her.

Jorgan gave a choked laugh, one the reverberated through her entire body, and slid his hands down her waist, thumbs tracing inside her hipbones. Fynta's hands gripped his biceps as he unfastened her belt and pants, hooking his fingers over the rough fabric and pulling them down her legs. Then he stepped back and Fynta let Jorgan drink her in. _Was this how he always felt?_ She wondered idly as his eyes slowly moved over her naked form, stopping at the white jewel on its golden chain. If so, then the Cathar had a lot more self-control than Fynta. Without warning, all of the coiled tension they'd created over the last year snapped and he closed the space between them with a guttural snarl.

Fynta's hands found the hem of Aric's shirt as he collided with her, yanking it free of his pants to run her hands over the hard muscles beneath. She'd imagined what it would feel like so many times and was pleased to find that her fantasies hadn't betrayed her. His hands slid up her arms to cradle her face, crushing their lips together again. Fynta wasted no time removing his belt and unbuttoning his pants. Jorgan froze, his palms still holding her face, as her fingers traced his obliques to slip below the waistband of his shorts. He groaned against her lips, eyes fluttering shut, when her hand wrapped around him.

Another shudder ran through Fynta, her grip tightened, and Aric grabbed her wrist while taking controlled breaths through his nose. Pulling himself free, Jorgan removed the obstructing garments while Fynta tugged at his shirt, finally working the fitted material over his head.

When she pushed him down onto the bed he went willingly, never taking his eyes off her. Fynta wanted to say something flirty or clever, but there was far too much of Aric on display for her to think clearly. She quickly gave up and climbed onto the bed with him. Jorgan's hands rested on her thighs when she situated herself above his hips, maintaining eye contact as she lowered herself slowly to meet him. A feral snarl escaped through Aric's clenched teeth as his fingers bruised Fynta's skin.

Jorgan swore, catching her hips as she ground against him. "Stop," he breathed.

Fynta forced herself to remain completely still, savoring near forgotten pleasures, until the pressure from his fingers eased. The urge to feel him moving inside her was overwhelming. She shifted slightly, just a gentle rocking motion, but Aric's nails dug into her skin again. His breath was coming in ragged gasps and she could feel his thighs tremble beneath her. Fynta braced her palms against his chest as she began to move faster, finding a satisfying rhythm. She could already feel the pressure building deep inside, ready to explode outward.

Jorgan's eyes were intense, practically glowing in the light from the neon displays outside her window as he watched her. Fynta focused on them, allowing herself to be swept away with the current of passion flowing through them. Suddenly, his hands were an immovable force on her hips, pinning her in place as he threw his head back and growled her name. Fynta followed him eagerly over the precipice, riding out the waves of pleasure until that blissful moment when she forgot how to breathe.

Fynta was still lost in the hazy aftermath of euphoria when a hand slipped lazily behind her neck, drawing her down into a gentle kiss. Fynta laid against Jorgan's chest, listening to the sound of his heart slowing to a normal pace, matching her breaths with his.

While keeping one hand tangled in the hair at the top of her neck, Aric wrapped the other around her back and held her tightly. Despite already being covered in sweat, Fynta felt herself relaxing against the inhuman warmth of his body.

Fynta sighed, turning her face to prop her chin on his chest. "That was worth the wait."

Jorgan chuckled, running his hands along her spine and closing his eyes. "Definitely."

**Club Vertica  
Room 1256**

Balic took a deep breath, being woken from a dead sleep by some noise in the hallway. Fynta had pulled some strings with Agent Balkar to get them a cushy room in the fabled Club Vertica casino. Elara had told him about their mission on Nar Shaddaa and about the role this place played into it. Cormac hated that he hadn't seen Elara in that dress, because he imagined she looked amazing. He knew Jorgan hated the SIS agent, but so far the man seemed like a standup guy. Not that he planned on trusting him or anything, but he came in handy.

Elara moved beside him, her shoulder length blond hair a mess from their celebratory shagging. Cormac smiled down at his new wife as she snuggled closer in her sleep. He'd planned to have their wedding on Coruscant so that Elara could say she was married in the capital of the republic, but she'd given a convincing argument about not waiting any longer.

As he lay there on his back with her head pillowed on his chest, Cormac gave her still healing shoulder a gentle rub, being careful not to wake her. She sighed, her light voice humming slightly, before settling again. He'd told Fynta he planned on proposing, but Cormac couldn't wait to see the look on the major's face when she found out they'd gone ahead and taken the leap.

Balic's mind couldn't help but wander to the commanding duo. Those two were perfect for one another and perhaps equally stubborn enough to pull it off without losing their jobs. He knew Fynta had big plans for these two weeks, although she wasn't coming clean on the details just yet. Cormac got the impression that Jorgan wasn't going to hate it though.

"Balic, are you alright?" Elara's voice still heavy as she blinked up at him.

"Sorry, doll, I didn't mean to wake you."

She pushed herself to a sitting position, pulling the sheet with her. Cormac admired the way the lights played across her creamy skin, so much lighter than his own. "It wasn't you," she stated, rubbing her eyes, then flexing her right shoulder gingerly. Balic winced, he'd done his best to be careful with her, even suggested they wait a little longer, but Elara had been . . . insistent, and well, who was he to deny his woman anything?

"I heard the change in your respiration, I think that's what woke me," she explained and Cormac grinned. Only his woman could be so in tune with her job that a simple thing like breathing patterns would wake her. He bet she'd be a great mother someday.

"Some idiots out in the hallway partied too hard I think," he replied by way of explanation as to _why_ his breathing had changed.

Elara tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear and turned smoldering blue eyes on him, giving Cormac a peek at that vixen inside.

Leaning forward, Elara draped herself across Balic's chest and smiled at him adoringly. "Well, since we are both awake," she whispered, brushing her lips lightly across his.

Cormac laughed when he felt her hand glide down his stomach and wrapped his arms around her. "Have I told you lately how much I love you?"

 **Residential Sector**  
**Apartment 215**

The chrono read that it was late morning when Fynta opened her eyes. A heavy arm draped across her middle and she could feel the steady rise and fall of Aric's chest against her back. Not a bad way to wake up.

With a satisfied sigh, Fynta turned in Jorgan's grasp, a task made more difficult when his arms tightened around her, and stared up into his face. He smiled, eyes still closed. "I could get used to this." His voice was husky from sleep and Fynta felt heat pooling in her belly again.

She gave him a nudge and Aric consented with a muttered grunt, flopping onto his back so she could wiggle a little closer, resting her head on his stomach. In the filtered light from the window, Fynta could still see the bruising on his torso from the damage done to his body during their run on the Gauntlet. She resolved to be a little gentler today than she had been the night before.

Fynta began idly tracing the muscles of his stomach, unconsciously outlining the pattern of bruising, while his fingers followed the curve of her hip. Jorgan's body was a strange mixture of soft and firm, not unpleasant, just alien. He was in peak physical condition, but the silky layer of hair, or fur, or whatever it was, made the hard muscles beneath less prominent.

"We could just stay in bed all day," Fynta finally suggested, breaking the quiet peace they had lapsed into. His stomach protested right on cue and she smirked. "Or we could have leftovers."

Jorgan stretched and Fynta lifted her head to look up at him. He was the picture of contentment, even the natural furrow in his brow ridges had smoothed. Then his hand dropped down again to run over the scars on her back. "I was planning to take you out for breakfast."

Fynta sat up and pressed the button that opened the blinds to the window and Jorgan shielded his eyes, grumbling. She looked back down at him with a smile, her tangled hair falling just to the left of his face as a shield from the unwelcomed brightness outside, which was the exact same as it had been the night before. "I think we've missed breakfast," she added, nodding to the marquis advertising an all you can eat lunch buffet.

Aric sighed and started running his fingers through her hair again, "So we have." He had yet to miss an opportunity to touch it. In fact, she'd fallen asleep the night before while he played with it, working out the knots that he'd put there moments earlier. The sensation was unimaginably relaxing, not something she had ever experienced before. In that moment, Fynta vowed to never cut it.

"How about this," Fynta slapped his chest playfully, eliciting a grunt and gave him an apologetic look. Remembering too late that he was still sore. "Shower, then decide on food."

As she pulled back the blankets, Jorgan made a grab for her, but Fynta spun out of his grasp to stand before him with a teasing smile. "You'll have to get up if you want to catch me." He managed a convincing impression of one of her eyebrow raises and glanced down at the sheet in his lap. "Not what I meant," Fynta laughed, deciding she liked this more playful side of the old grouch.

Fynta started the water and waited for it to heat up while she decided what to wear for the day, not generally something she had to worry about, but leave meant she wasn't relegated to just three options. "Afraid it'll be fatigues for me again," Jorgan said as he walked past where Fynta stood at her wardrobe, completely unabashed by his nudity for a change. Fynta tilted her head to watch him disappear into the fresher, then gave up on the possibilities for her attire and followed.

Pulling open the door, Fynta stepped in beside him. "We could always get you a few things to leave here, just so that you have something other than military gear. You know, for R&R?"

"Asking me to move in after one night?" Jorgan asked. His face was turned up into the water, a grin fighting to pull at the corners of his mouth.

Fynta took a moment to admire the firm muscles of his back before smacking his butt. "If you're lucky."

He opened one eye and glanced back at her over his shoulder with a genuine smile. Fynta shook her head before resting it against his shoulder blade. For the first time in her life, everything felt right with the galaxy, she and Jorgan had found some small measure of peace and happiness. Fynta should have known it wouldn't last.


	23. No Man Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't figured it out by now, I tend to take the darker path. Writing the beginning of Jorgan's downward spiral has been great fun for me.
> 
> The Hoth rescue was written to the song No Man Left Behind.

  **Nar Shaddaa**  
**Apartment 215  
** **Day 2 of Leave**

"I don't _purr_ ," Jorgan insisted as he pulled on his shirt. Fynta still had a towel wrapped around her, grinning at him. Every time he looked at her, heat rose in his chest again. Flexing his shoulders, Jorgan smiled at the twinge of pain from the marks her nails had left across his chest. He'd be healed by the time they made it back to the Thunderclap, provided she didn't add anymore. Watching her bend to rifle through her clothing options, Jorgan admired the toned muscles in her legs. He remembered how they'd flexed beneath his fingers the night before. He had no regrets.

"Fine," Fynta said, bringing him back to the present. "It was a rumbling in your throat that _reminded_ me of a purr." She dropped the towel, letting it gather around her feet as she looked over her shoulder. Her coy smile had him on the verge of tossing his boots aside and taking her in his arms again.

"It was probably a growl," he commented, trying to clear his head. One of his boots were already laced, but Jorgan hesitated over the other as he sat on the edge of the still rumpled bed.

Fynta locked eyes with him. "Oh no," she replied in a breathy voice. "I've heard that."

In an instant, Jorgan was on his feet and across the room. He grabbed her arm and spun her roughly to face him only to be met with an impish grin. "That wasn't just me, you know."

"I know," she teased, pressing her still naked body against him.

A growl was building in the back of Jorgan's throat as he leaned closer. Then the playful atmosphere was shattered when his personal holo buzzed. They froze, his lips barely touching hers, and both held their breath. It buzzed again and Jorgan swore. Fynta echoed his sentiment with a more colorful curse and stepped away, nodding for him to take it in the hall.

Jorgan snatched the holo off the floor where it had fallen the night before and strode grouchily into the hallway. He could still hear the sound of Fynta opening and closing drawers in the room while she dressed, so he headed for the sitting room and hit accept.

"Jorgan." His standard greeting sounded a little gruffer than usual.

"Ah, Captain, I've been trying to reach you," General Garza said in a no nonsense tone. "I would appreciate it if you would _all_ keep your communicators online in case of an emergency."

Seeing the general's steely expression quickly sobered Jorgan's attitude. "Yes, sir," he answered to the not so subtle reminder that he was Republic property.

The older woman hefted a datapad and continued on without acknowledging Jorgan's response. "We've finished decrypting the final set of coordinates from that intel you retrieved on the Deadeyes. I'm sending them through now." She tapped something on her datapad, then looked up to make eye contact through the small hologram. "Captain, I know you've been through a lot, but I'm afraid I cannot sanction this on the Republic's clock. The SIS has attempted to block us at every turn. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes, sir." Garza was implying that if Jorgan wanted to rescue his old squad, it would have to be on his own time, because the army wasn't going to go head to head with the SIS.

"Good. Enjoy your leave. Garza out."

Jorgan pocketed the holo and turned to find Fynta leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, already dressed in her fatigues. He took a deep breath, preparing himself to break the news of his early departure from their shared leave.

"We've got a positive fix on the Deadeyes' location." Fynta held out his datapad wordlessly, the flashing light indicating that he had received the general's dossier. Jorgan accepted it and opened the file with a nod of appreciation. "The data points to an Imperial outpost on Hoth. Another labor camp, most likely."

Fynta took a step closer, bounced up on her toes, and brushed her lips across his. "Let's get down there and bring those soldiers home."

This was why Jorgan had fallen in love with her, because she never hesitated to put soldiers, whether they were hers or not, before herself. As he watched Fynta disappear back into her room, Jorgan realized he'd follow that woman through all seven Corellian hells.

**Hoth's Surface  
Day 4 of Leave**

Fynta's back slammed into the wall, Aric's scorched gauntlet stretched across her chest plate to keep her flat as a rocket shot passed them and exploded down cave. The ice clinked against her armor, reminding her of rain, instead of the fact that she'd nearly lost her head. "Get down!" Fynta dropped on command, grunting as Jorgan's weight fell over her and another explosion of ice and rocks showered them.

"Eventually they'll run out of ammo," Fynta growled as she scrambled behind a shattered ice wall to catch her breath. This wasn't the barely guarded cave on Tatooine, it was a shabbing fortress and somehow the Imperials knew they were coming.

"I'm sorry about this, Fynta." Jorgan was pressed against the wall beside her with more than a few new dings in his armor as well.

Fynta turned her helmet to better see the Cathar. He was crouched, raising his head every now and then to get an idea of where the blaster fire was coming from. Fynta realized her life was now tied to this man in a way she'd never been tied to anyone. Including her brother. So long as it was within her power, she'd go where he went. Besides, someone had to get those boys out and it obviously wasn't going to be the people who sent them in.

"It's been my pleasure." Fynta smiled at him even though she knew he couldn't see her. "All the way over, and maybe on the way home." Jorgan's faceplate turned towards her and Fynta heard him chuckle. Not the standard, _I'm tolerating your bad jokes,_ but a deeper sound that sent chills through her. "You ready to end this, Captain?"

"I really hate it when you say things like that," he grumbled while checking his ammo.

"Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur." _Today is a good day for someone else to die_. Fynta figured that proverb worked as well now as it had in any other battle. "Let's put it to the test."

Fynta smacked Jorgan's leg playfully and primed her last grenade. With her rifle held in one hand, Fynta tossed the sphere in the direction of the enemy and broke cover at a run, firing while she counted down the seconds to detonation. Jorgan was at her side, muttering under his breath with each shot he took. The bomb made an effective clearing device even if it just got the Imperials to scatter, that at least gave the two commandos targets.

Movement caught Fynta's eye, the glint of a rifle barrel off the reflective walls and she drove her shoulder into Jorgan's side, nearly taking them both to the ground. The bolt smashed into the ground at her feet and Aric took out the sniper. By the time the shooting stopped, Fynta and Jorgan were bent double, trying to pull in a lung full of air.

Fynta's stomach rolled as if it needed to empty itself in order to make room for more oxygen and her helmet was suddenly stifling. She yanked it free and dropped it at her feet, wincing as she forced a deep breath. It had been a long time since Fynta had been this exhausted, and their mission wasn't over yet. She and Jorgan had pulled off a shabbing miracle. Two people should not have been able to take on that many Imperial soldiers and walk away victorious, or at all. Whatever the reason, Fynta was glad that luck was still on her side.

"You alright?" Jorgan panted, sounding just as haggard as she felt.

Fynta straightened, the familiar pang of bruised ribs making her gasp. Her answer came out as a growl as she snatched up her helmet. "I'll be better once we get off this shabbing planet."

"The Deadeyes better be here," Jorgan answered in an equally rumbling voice, hooking his own helmet on his belt instead of sealing it back in place. Fynta followed suit. The cold air was revitalizing instead of breathtaking for a change, which she attributed to the natural insulation of the ice walls. She should probably keep her helmet on as much as she had been sweating, but Fynta just couldn't bring herself to do it.

"Surely there wouldn't be this many guards without them, right?" Fynta asked.

Jorgan's lips pressed into a tight line. "Unless it's a trap."

"Shab." Fynta was tired, she really didn't want to deal with another ambush. "Might as well go say hi." She shouldered her rifle and took point, letting Jorgan watch her back. Fynta paused when Aric touched her elbow. His head was tipped to the side, ears twitching, as he listened to sounds Fynta's human ears were deaf to. Then Jorgan's eyes cut down to her and he nodded. She set a slower pace until they were close enough for her to hear the voices too. They sounded panicky, like a rabbit about to bolt when it senses a hawk. Fynta ducked low, then held up a hand to tell Jorgan to stay put while she crept closer to peek around the corner.

"I'm telling you, the blasting stopped, that means everything is fine."

"Yeah, unless they're all dead. Why aren't they answering their comms?"

"Because signal's bloody awful in this place, you know that. Now stop whimpering and do your damn job."

Fynta watched the suspicious guard throw his hands up in frustration and skulk off while the other lit up a smoke. From her vantage, she could make out three guards and three men in civilian clothes. Clothes far too thin for this cold. Fynta moved backward and stood to find Jorgan right behind her. His breathing was carefully controlled, forceful and short, impatient to get to his men.

The Cathar was looking over her head as if he could see through the wall, so Fynta gave his chest a two fingered shove to get his attention. Without their helmets, they couldn't communicate effectively, but sealing themselves in now would likely draw unwanted attention. Fynta held up three fingers and pointed in guards' various directions. Again, Jorgan nodded his comprehension.

Aric raised his weapon and braced it against his shoulder, looking for Fynta to give the word. Taking a quiet breath to steady her still pounding heart, Fynta gave the signal and stepped into the large cavern beyond. The two guards who had been playing a card game slumped forward with holes in their heads. One fell out of his chair and left a red stain on the floor beneath him while his buddy's face slammed into the box they were using as a table. When Fynta checked Jorgan's position, he had a heavily armored Imperial commando pinned to the floor under his boot and was emptying a charge pack into the chest plate. This was the vengeful side of Aric Jorgan. She'd seen it a couple of times while they were chasing down Tavus's lackeys, and it impressed her just as much now as it had then. Once he was satisfied the man was no longer moving, Jorgan turned to face the prisoners.

"Berix, Hal. You two still breathing?"

Two of the men, both human, one light skinned and the other the darkest Fynta had ever seen, were huddled together shivering.

"Ugh—More or less," chattered the pale skinned man. Now that Fynta could see him better, he actually looked more blue than peach. He wouldn't last much longer. Fynta began going through the guards effects while Jorgan caught up with his old squad. The Cathar had already begun preliminary checks on their fingers while they tried to explain why they were here. "Didn't expect to see you here, sir," the man continued.

"Nor I." The third man finally turned to sneered at the Havoc soldiers. Fynta was on her feet in an instant, putting herself between Jorgan and Senior Agent Zane, her hand flattened against Aric's chest plate. The SIS agent smirked in the face of the snarling Cathar, which Fynta thought was an incredibly stupid thing to do since she was the only thing holding Jorgan back. "Care to explain what you two are doing here?"

Berix and Hal took a careful step back. Jorgan's chest plate was moving rapidly under Fynta's hand in time with his breathing. He leaned forward, testing her resolve, and Fynta pushed back. She locked eyes with him, a warning to calm down, before turning back to Zane. "We're rescuing the Deadeyes. Play nice, and you can tag along."

"Maybe I don't want to be rescued," Zane replied with crossed arms.

One of Jorgan's men snorted and Fynta glanced in their direction. "Boys, see if those guards have anything you can use." Neither soldier asked questions, just moved stiffly away from the tense trio and began looking for something to make themselves a little more comfortable.

"Don't you get it? The operation was never about rescuing POWs." Zane continued, rolling his eyes at their stupidity. "We've been after one thing, Dusk 9."

Whatever ground Fynta had gained against Jorgan, she lost quickly when he took two steps forward and pointed an accusatory finger at the SIS agent. "That place is just a myth."

"Is it?" Zane held out both hands as if he'd finally made his point. "We'll never know now, thanks to you two." Jorgan snarled again, but it didn't carry the same savage note as it had earlier. He was an objective driven man and Fynta could see that the Cathar was beginning to second guess himself.

Fynta turned on Zane, "If that's true, then you lied to the Deadeyes about their mission's real objective."

"Of course! We could hardly expect a bunch of grunts to keep their mouths shut. Next to the Emperor's location, Dusk 9 is the Empire's best kept secret. Hundreds of black ops projects are born there." Fynta felt a tremor run up her spine. Zane was so cavalier about his betrayal of Republic soldiers.

Without taking her eyes off the SIS agent, Fynta stepped away from Jorgan, making it clear that she was no longer standing between him and Zane. This man was completely unapologetic for his crimes, and as far as she was concerned, he deserved whatever Jorgan gave him. Fynta just hoped she never reached the point where her men's lives mattered so little. When she had to make the call, Fynta wanted it to hurt. Otherwise, their sacrifice meant nothing.

* * *

It was so tempting to take those few steps between him and Zane to snap the guy's neck. Fynta was no longer blocking Jorgan's path. It took him a few moments to realize why. "It's also a prison," he hedged, trying to gauge her reaction. The major's head turned slowly to look at him and Jorgan saw Fynta's eyes were distant. He knew that look. When she motioned for him to continue, he did so carefully. "According to the rumors, at least. The things that supposedly go on there are too horrible to be real." Fynta's eyes widened, becoming a clear, dark blue once more. Jorgan realized too late that it was the failed prison asteroid mission she was reliving.

"We're more interested in the intel hoarded there," Zane continued, oblivious to the fact that Jorgan was no longer the most dangerous person in this room. "We seeded thousands of bugged soldiers into the Imperial penal system. Hoping for a bite."

"So many soldiers…" Fynta's voice trailed off to a whisper. Jorgan took a step towards her, then decided he'd let the major do whatever she wanted to the bastard.

"To improve our odds, naturally." Zane mistook her statement as a question. The two Deadeye snipers moved forward, but Jorgan discreetly waved them away. Meanwhile, Zane kept talking himself into a deeper hole. "The more soldiers we send, the better our chances of someone ending up at Dusk 9." Zane waved to the two nearly frozen men, "We were using the wrong bait. The Brass at Dusk 9 weren't interested in common soldiers. But…" He gestured to himself next, "How could they resist an SIS agent? So I bugged myself, staged a bogus rescue operation, and let myself be captured. I was awaiting transfer when you two geniuses showed up— _oof_."

The man had barely finished his sentence before he was flat on his back, blood pouring from his nose. "Lousy chakaar," Fynta growled, standing over him with her fists shaking. "You should have started with yourself."

The SIS agent scrambled back to his feet, wiping his nose with his sleeve, then dusting his hands on his pants. "You've just ended your career, Major," Zane said with a humorless snort that started a renewed flow of blood. "Now I have no choice but to abort my mission and start again from somewhere else." Zane sighed.

Fynta's hand rested on the handle of her blaster. Hal and Berix were watching in silence, an almost eager gleam in their eyes. Jorgan knew she wouldn't lose sleep over ending someone she viewed as a traitor. Hell, minutes earlier he'd been ready to tear Zane's throat out with his teeth.

Jorgan hoped he didn't regret this decision. Turning his back on Zane, he rested a hand on Fynta's shoulder. "Sir, we can deal with Zane later. Let's find the rest of the squad and get out of here."

"Jorgan." Berix had one of the guards jackets wrapped around his narrow shoulders but was still shivering violently. "Sir, they're dead. The cold-they didn't make it."

Jorgan's next step fell short as Koplin's face sprang unbidden before his eyes. He could see the long, red scar that ran from the man's hairline down to his chin, hear him laughing as he made up another story to con some woman into bed. "What?" Jorgan's heart began to beat faster, making it difficult to breath. _Trace too?_ The squad had never missed an opportunity to antagonize the man about the full cheeks that made him look years younger than he really was. He'd hated it.

"They're gone? But I thought-" This wasn't right. Losing a friend in combat was one thing, but these men were abandoned. They were murdered.

One name came to mind. _Zane_. Jorgan's blaster was in his hand and pointed at the SIS agent's chest before he realized he'd made the decision. "You killed them," the Cathar snarled. "You promised them a rescue that never came and now they are dead for it." Jorgan took a step closer and put both hands on the weapon. Everything else faded to black around the edges, only Zane existed. Jorgan didn't even know why he was using the blaster instead of his rifle, he rarely used his sidearm, but it felt right. "How many other soldiers have died for you?" He bared his teeth, "A hundred? A _thousand_?" Jorgan's finger tightened on the trigger. All it would take was one shot.

Zane looked completely nonplussed. "You can't kill me, Jorgan. Too many witnesses."

Hal was now standing at the edge of Jorgan's vision on the other side of Fynta. "As far as we're concerned, sir. The Imperials killed him."

"What?" Zane glanced at the man, his eyes widening in surprise. "Wait, you can't just—" Jorgan pulled his lips back even further in a feral growl that dragged Zane's attention back to the weapon in his face. The SIS agent took a step back. "Major! Do something!"

Jorgan slid his eyes to Fynta. She had her arms crossed, looking from the cave to the two snipers left here to freeze to death. Jorgan could see her working it out. If Zane went back, he would push for more soldiers to be sent out, and surely she wouldn't allow that to happen. When Fynta looked back at Zane, Jorgan knew what her decision would be just by how tightly her fingers were curled into her palms. "Seems the vote is unanimous," Fynta said in a low voice. "Skira."

Zane's face went slack with shock and he started backing up, his hands held out in front of him. Jorgan didn't waste time gloating, he just squeezed the trigger. The first bolt took Zane in the chest, the second in the skull. "That's for Koplin and Trace," Jorgan whispered, staring down at the former SIS agent. "Better men than you."

"No doubt he had that coming for a long time," Fynta added.

"Wouldn't surprise me," Jorgan answered on automatic. He should be mortified with what he'd done, but there was nothing.

Fynta took a deep breath and looked at the soldiers. "You two okay?"

"Absolutely, sir," Berix answered. "We'd be dead if you hadn't shown up."

Jorgan was listening in a disconnected way. He didn't tear his eyes from the corpse until someone said his name. Giving himself a mental shake, Jorgan pushed the entire event from his mind to deal with later. "Let's get you two back to your squad. They'll want to know you're okay. I'll call for an evac."

The four soldiers waited in silence this time. There were no happy reunions between comrades or entertaining stories from the good old days. Only the quiet muttering of the names of those who had been lost. A tradition Jorgan had picked up from Fynta.

Finally, the shuttle arrived and they were able to get a ride back to the spacestation. Jorgan paced behind the medics while they checked the men's fingers and toes and was relieved to hear they would be keeping all of them. Even after the two men had fallen asleep under the heated blankets, Jorgan still walked the cramped space, doing anything to avoid replaying Zane's final moments in his head. Eventually, he was forced to take a seat next Fynta and leaned his head back against the bulkhead.

"You doing alright?" She asked quietly.

"Honestly, sir," he sighed. "I'd rather not talk about it right now." Fynta didn't pry any further, just leaned her head back as well. Jorgan wondered if he'd ever be able to look her in the eye again.

**The Thunderclap  
Day 5 of leave**

Jorgan had said goodbye to Berix and Hal and promised to keep in touch. He'd also put in a call to Torv to let him know his men were headed home. The young lieutenant had taken the news badly, blaming himself. As much as Jorgan wanted to comfort him, the platitudes fell short. Torv should have known better. They were a sniper squad, not SIS. The Deadeyes weren't trained for infiltration; they were trained for assassination. Torture, subterfuge-that wasn't a soldier's job.

Jorgan shut off the holo and rubbed the bridge of his nose, wondering if the deaths were somehow his fault too. This whole thing had gotten out of hand and he had to fix it somehow. Maybe Jorgan should turn himself in, submit to the mercy of the court system, and take his sentence. After all, he'd gunned down an unarmed man in cold blood. That was a first for him. His days as a sniper didn't count, they were the enemy. Zane was a Republic SIS agent. Jorgan began pacing around the main room. All of those men, their deaths were on Zane, so did that make the man any different from the enemy? Jorgan growled, that was Fynta's logic, not his own. It was becoming more difficult to distinguish between the two.

The Cathar paused to reason it out. Fynta had been ready to tear Jorgan's head off with her bare hands when she thought he'd left just over a hundred to die. Now he understood. Thousands of soldiers. The rage and sorrow had tightened Jorgan's chest when he heard that Trace and Koplin were dead simply because the SIS couldn't be bothered to go back for them. Jorgan sighed, he didn't even feel guilty.

First things first, Jorgan had to make sure things were squared away with Fynta. She hadn't batted an eyelash when he pulled the trigger. No doubt the major would have done it herself, but she had given him the opportunity for revenge. And he'd taken it. _Is that what skira means?_ Jorgan stopped with one foot on the bottom step that led to the bridge. He'd killed an SIS agent, there was no taking it back. _I'm a murderer now._ So why wasn't he falling apart at the seams?

Fynta was seated in the pilot's seat when Jorgan rounded the corner. He climbed into the chair beside her without a word and began checking the instruments as a distraction. Finally, the silence became stifling. "Sir, about what happened earlier…" Fynta's only response was to swivel the chair to give him her undivided attention. There was no accusation in her expression, just patience. Honesty would be his best avenue here, so Jorgan took a deep breath. "Zane got what was coming to him. But I shouldn't have been the one to pull the trigger. Killing an unarmed man, a Republic agent no less… that goes against everything I've been trained to do." Jorgan squared his shoulders. "But if killing Zane saves even a few Republic soldiers, I'll accept that burden."

Fynta leaned forward and looked Jorgan in the eye. "I would have done it if you hadn't." Assuming and knowing were two different things, and her words lifted a weight off him. Jorgan realized this woman's opinion now meant more to him than the brass's at High Command. How the hell did he get to this place?

All Jorgan's fury and frustration bubbled over. Linking his fingers behind his head, Jorgan swiveled the chair side to side in lieu of pacing. "Honestly, it's not even Zane's death that's bothering me. It's everything. The Deadeyes, the operation and the Republic's part in all this." Fynta leaned back in the chair and folded her hands over her stomach. Jorgan had come to think of it as her _long-winded rant_ position. So, he continued. "You heard Zane. Thousands of soldiers, all being fed to the Empire to find a place that may not even exist. It isn't right."

"There is a lot not right in this galaxy, but at least we put a stop to _this_ injustice when Zane's heart stopped beating," Fynta replied.

"Did we? Who's to say another agent won't just pick up right where he left off?" Jorgan's arms fell and his hands balled into fists in his lap. "We're just stats to the brass, Fynta. Numbers to throw at the Empire for the Republic's convenience." He sighed and leaned back in his chair, forcing his hands to relax. "I'd have been proud to die for the Republic before, but after this-after all we've seen." The rest was lost to the silence on the bridge.

"Ba'slan shev'la," Fynta said, staring out the viewport at the stars beyond.

"What is that?" Some of Jorgan's anger faded as he studied the tattoo on the side of her face. Fynta had been abandoned more than once, and it had left its mark. He thought back to all the scars she had and wondered how many of them had been received on the job. Jorgan had never had the courage to ask.

The look on Fynta's face when she asked if he thought they would ever be disavowed by the Republic had resurfaced more than once over the intervening months. Jorgan had sworn he would never let that happen. If this experience with the Deadeyes had done anything, it had served to strengthen his resolve.

Fynta glanced over. "Strategic disappearance. It's how Mandalorians have stayed alive for millennia." She leaned back a little further to prop her feet on the console. "Basically, everyone scatters for a set period of time; months, years, whatever. Cut all contact with everyone, including family and friends. Then, when the time is right, reappear at a predetermined location in force."

"I'm not throwing in the towel yet," Jorgan replied quickly, lest she think he was considering going AWOL. The thought alone made his stomach knot up. Fynta raised an eyebrow and Jorgan sighed again. "I won't ever trust Command again, not completely, but I'll keep fighting. Because the Republic is more than the bureaucrats running it. It's the billions of people who can't fend for themselves, who are counting on us to defend them. So I'll fight for them."

Fynta's accepting smile confirmed Jorgan's sentiment on the matter. It was the same reason she fought, because someone had to protect the innocent. "And for you," he added. If Fynta decided to desert, Jorgan honestly couldn't say whether he would follow or not. He'd like to think he had more honor. After all, Jorgan had let plenty of women walk away before, but maybe not this one.

Fynta kicked off the console and leaned over the divider to touch his arm. "We'll have each other's backs, Aric." In that moment Jorgan had his answer. He knew exactly what he wanted for his future. It wasn't promotions or medals, but the woman sitting across from him. High Command could shove their medals up their shebs, as Fynta would say. Jorgan nodded in confirmation.

The silence that followed was a comfortable one, just two people so completely in tuned with one another that there was no need to fill it. Then Jorgan had a thought. "Where would we reappear?" It couldn't hurt to have a backup plan. Ret'lini.

**Nar Shaddaa**  
**460 Days after Ord Mantell  
** **The Thunderclap**

"Welcome back, everyone," Fynta said as the rest of Havoc Squad clambered back aboard the Thunderclap. Nothing pressing had come up, so the squad had gotten the full stay this time. Fynta and Jorgan had returned to the apartment and remained there with the doors locked for the last week. Hence why Fynta was in such a splendid mood. They both knew Jorgan wouldn't be able to stay in her bed once aboard the ship, so they'd made last night worthwhile.

"Stick it in your ear," Vik replied. After receiving a stern look from Jorgan, the Weequay reconsidered. "Stick it in your ear, _sir_ ," he added with a shrug as he stalked off towards the barracks.

Fynta put a restraining hand on Jorgan's arm when he made to follow. "It's not worth it, just let him sulk." The Cathar nodded before turning his attention to Cormac, who was returning from stashing his and Dorne's stuff in the medbay.

"So?" The big man hedged with a stupid grin. "How was your vacation?" Cormac's hands were in his pockets while he rocked back on his heels, failing miserably in his attempt at innocent curiosity. Fynta matched his smile while Jorgan shuffled at her side.

"We had a splendid time, sir," Dorne added as she joined the small huddle. Saving Fynta from Cormac's questions, but not his scrutiny. The man was a gossip at heart and Fynta knew he expected details for agreeing to go to Nar Shaddaa instead of Coruscant. She'd have to pay up eventually.

The medic continued without hesitation despite the odd look Cormac was giving her. "I believe my arm shall be healed in a few more days, I should be back to full functionality soon." Elara's arm was still in a sling, because unlike the rest of Havoc Squad, she was a good patient. "How was your leave, sirs?" The woman asked, grey eyes full of glee. There was something different about her normal optimism today.

Fynta opened her mouth to answer, but Jorgan surprised them all by beating her to the punch. "Invigorating." The single word rolled off his tongue with a rumble that pulled all three sets of eyes to him and the blasted Cathar smirked.

"No," Cormac said, mirroring his response from when he figured out what caused the mess in the armory. Except this time, it took longer for the shock to be replaced by his signature grin. "You're kriffing kidding me." Fynta started laughing. Cormac was so stunned he'd forgotten that he'd taken up cursing in Mando'a.

The big man slapped Jorgan on the back, his laughter slowly building from a light chuckle to full on rolling laughter. "It's about damn time."

Elara was more subtle, of course. Her own response being a slight widening of the eyes and a pleasant smile. "I'm ever so happy to hear you enjoyed yourselves, sirs."

Neither mentioned their side trip to Hoth. Fynta had forbidden Aric from turning himself over to the authorities, stating plainly that Republic prison wasn't for him. When he asked how she knew, Fynta had changed the subject. Later, she would find time to pull Dorne aside, just to let the other woman know the Deadeye issue had been resolved. Elara wouldn't ask for details.

Cormac cleared his throat and slipped an arm around Dorne's shoulder. "We've got an announcement of our own, and we need your help," he said, holding out his datapad.

Fynta took it, holding the device at an angle so Jorgan could read over her shoulder. The heading read FORM 3578-K. Beneath it: OFFICIAL AUTHORIZATION TO PURSUE ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS. Leave it to the military to take all the romance out of love. Balic and Elara's names were already on the document, along with a checked box next to the MARRIED status. Fynta blinked, then squinted to make sure she hadn't misread. When she looked up, the happy couple was smiling hopefully.

"You two were busy, I see."

Elara gave a curt nod. "It requires our commanding officers' signatures to make it a binding contract."

Fynta was still staring dumbly at the newlyweds, her brain having trouble wrapping itself around the concept that these two had run off and gotten hitched on Nar Shaddaa. Suddenly, the datapad was pulled from her fingers. Fynta followed its trajectory to find Jorgan with a stylus in his hand, signing his name on the dotted line. He handed it back to Fynta, then offered Dorne and Cormac a nod. "Congratulations, both of you."

Jorgan nudged Fynta with his shoulder, pulling her out of a trance. "Right. Congratulations." She hastily scrawled her name on the designated line and returned the device. "Wow, married."

"Thank you," Elara replied graciously. Now Fynta realized why they looked different. Because they were deliriously happy. Fynta's mind wandered to Jorgan, would he want to get married one day? Then, she quickly dismissed that entire line of thought and grasped for another subject to latch onto. The idea of marriage was . . . terrifying.

"Has anyone seen Yuun?"

Jorgan pointed back towards the barracks with his thumb, "He was in his bunk asleep about an hour ago." There was a hint of concern in his blue eyes.

"Oh. Any idea how long he's been there?"

"None, sir."

Cormac started to chuckle as he followed Dorne back towards the medbay. "Busted," he called out before ducking into the room before Fynta could find something to throw at him. At worst, the Gand might have overheard playful banter between her and Jorgan while they prepped the ship. Nothing too obvious, but enough for an intelligent Gand to put together. It struck Fynta then; did Yuun see their relationship in his pattern, or whatever it was that Findsmen looked into?

Fynta shook her head, she would have to dwell on those matters later. "Alright, that's everyone. Situate yourselves, and someone wake Yuun up. Garza is waiting on our call for the Belsavis briefing."

"Belsavis?" Vik asked, lumbering back into the room with Yuun in tow. "That's a prison planet."

Fynta nodded at their newest member, who looked as refreshed as a Gand could look. She couldn't wait to hear how the quiet man spent his leave, no doubt it had been interesting.

"Know the place, huh?" Jorgan asked as he readied the call to the general.

Vik smirked at the accusation. "I've heard of it, yeah."

Fynta took up position in front of the holoterminal. "This will be a relatively short jump, so make sure you are all sorted. Oh, and we should probably be prepared for a lot of hostility."

"As if Havoc Squad will ever be met with anything but hostility," Vik grumbled.

Fynta smiled at the Weequay. "Nah, that's just you, Vik."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Footnotes:
> 
> Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur: [EEB- toor JAHT-nay toor ASH-ahd-KEE-ram-oor] Today is a good day for someone else to die - Mando saying
> 
> chakaar [chah-KAR] corpse robber, thief, petty criminal - general term of abuse
> 
> skira: [SKEE-rah] settling scores, revenge. feud (different to vengeance - more personal)
> 
> Ba'slan shev'la: - Strategic disappearance. Mandalorian Phrase.
> 
> shebs: [shebs] backside, rear, buttocks
> 
> ret'lini: [Rayt-LEE-nee] just in case (colloquial - Mandos are cautious and always have a plan B)
> 
> Other Languages:
> 
> Kriff or Kriffing: a vulgar expletive


	24. The Cathar Problem

 

**D-5 Mantis  
** **Wild Space**

Verin stalked through the ship in search of food. It was the only thing that could ease his mind since Cinlat frowned on drinking, claiming it dulled the senses too much. That sounded good to Verin. He'd been cooped up in the ship waiting on the final negotiations for a job that ended up falling through because the proprietor got himself killed. Verin was ready to head to the apartment when Fynta called to ask for a favor. She'd requested groceries, the items to cook Tiingilar no less, which had instantly made Verin curious as to who his little sister was trying to impress. However, when he pushed for an answer, Fynta grinned through the holo and told him to mind his own business.

Of course, Verin couldn't do that, so he'd started digging. Fynta had finally found herself a man, and it was a shabbing Cathar. What could possibly be going on in that dense kovid of hers? Surely she knew how that would affect Cinlat. Verin grit his teeth and slammed the cabinet door in his frustration.

"Easy, cyar'ika, we have to pay to fix that," Cinlat said from where she sat at the table with a cup of caf.

Verin had been so wrapped up in his own righteous fury that he hadn't noticed his wife. "Sorry," he muttered, flopping into the chair across from her empty handed. He hadn't warned Cinlat yet. For once, Verin chose to take the time to choose his words carefully. Only problem was, that was taking longer than expected. If he waited much longer, Cinlat would think he was holding out on her. Opening his mouth to finally get it off his chest, Verin slipped into a half truth instead. "I'm restless."

Cinlat made a skeptical noise in the back of her throat before setting her cup on the table and raising both eyebrows at Verin. "Luckily for you, I found us a job." His wife gave an innocent smile and Verin prepared himself for the other boot to drop.

"Who's the client?" Maybe if he had someone to shoot, it would lift his spirits.

Cinlat stared at him with dazzling white eyes, a look Verin knew meant he wasn't going to like her answer. "A guy named Darth Tormen," she stated at last.

And there it was. "Ah, Cin, I thought we weren't taking Sith contracts anymore. Look where the last one got us." Killing a member of the Dark Council was generally frowned upon even for a Mandalorian. At least, while the Sith were paying the bills. Cinlat had never been bothered by such things, no matter how many times the Mand'alor railed at her. So no one should have been surprised when her knee jerk reaction to his threat was a bolt from her ripper. Verin figured it just went to show that even the all powerful are vulnerable when they let their guard down.

"You want a job or not?" Cinlat retrieved her mug and sipped at the caf until Verin raised an eyebrow in question. "It's on Belsavis and this bounty pays pretty good. Plus, Fynta will be there."

"How'd you figure that out?" Verin asked, wondering if Cinlat already knew about the Cathar problem. His wife offered a smug grin. Verin hated it when she did that. "Sure it's safe to approach her? After all, she did threaten to castrate me if I came within a parsec of that apartment while she was there." He got that his little sister wanted to be alone with her lover, but that had seemed a little harsh.

"I've got it on good authority that Fynta's next mission is on the prison planet, probably something to do with the riots." Cinlat rolled her eyes when he didn't to catch on fast enough. "Meaning, your manly bits are safe because she'll be on the job." Cinlat paused and smiled into her mug. "Unless you find some other way to piss her off.

**The Thunderclap  
** **En route to Belsavis**

Jorgan was in his normal chair just inside the door of Fynta's room, staring at her through narrowed eyes. "So," he began again. "We are rescuing Republic pilots, from a Republic prison."

"Seems that way," Fynta answered. "Certainly not the weirdest job we've had." Fynta finished her braid and headed for the main room. Jorgan was behind her, still trying to puzzle out what Fynta saw as a relatively cut and dry mission. The pilots of Dagger Wing were inmates on Belsavis, but Garza needed them for the assault against Rakton. So, Fynta was completely comfortable with busting them out, so long as she got to put a bolt through the chakaar.

"So we are being sent to reinstate more criminals?" Jorgan asked from behind as Fynta checked the chrono for an ETA. "You're okay with these orders?"

The doubt in his voice made Fynta stop and look up at the Cathar. His brow bones were pulled together into his signature scowl as he stared at the floor. The pilots of Dagger Wing were serving life sentences for participating in an unauthorized bombing mission that killed thousands of Imperial civilians. According to the pilots, they thought they were acting in the Republic's best interest at the time. However, Fynta got the impression Jorgan's ire wasn't solely about the Dagger Wing.

Laying a hand on Aric's arm, Fynta tried to soothe his concern. "Why don't we get their side of the story first."

The Cathar sighed, opening his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut and shifted away from Fynta. A second later, Vik and Cormac came into the central room, each man plopping down on opposite sides of the table. "Let's not forget about the planet wide prison break," Vik growled, propping his elbow on the metal surface.

"Yeah, since when do the Imps try to bust out their POWs?" Cormac added, putting his own arm on the table and clasping hands with the Weequay. Fynta watched the two with one arched eyebrow. Vik had given the newlyweds a hard about settling down, claiming that his offer to give Elara the company of a real man was still open.

Instead of slugging him, Cormac had started an animated conversation about muscle density, and had thrown out a lot of words that Fynta knew weren't in the big guy's vocabulary before meeting his wife. In the end, Fynta had suggested the arm wrestling match to decide who was superior. What they didn't know was that, as commanding officer, she had access to their medical records. Vik and Cormac were evenly matched, almost down to the ounce. Which meant this could take a while.

"They wouldn't," Elara answered from where she sat curled up in a chair with the ever present datapad in her lap and the stylus tucked behind her ear. "Not unless there are Sith involved."

Everyone looked at the medic, who had retrieved her stylus and begun writing, completely immune to their stares. "Well, that's just great," Vik growled again as he pushed against Cormac's hand.

Fynta rubbed her hands down her face and sighed. "We've got just over an hour, everyone go ahead and suit up now, just in case we have a rocky atmospheric entry. I'm going to check in with Yuun." Jorgan was the first to obey, followed by Elara, and Fynta assumed Cormac and Vik would amble off at the last minute.

Climbing the stairs to the bridge, Fynta smiled when she saw the Gand in the co-pilot's chair. She appreciated that he respected her as not only his commanding officer, but as the captain of the Thunderclap. Easing into her chair, Fynta smiled over at him. "Did you enjoy your leave, Yuun?"

Multifaceted, red eyes turned towards her and the Gand dipped his head in a slow nod. "Yuun progressed much down the path to enlightenment, Major. Yuun also spoke with relatives. The fates are smiling favorably upon the Gand this day"

Fynta was dumbfounded. It was the most she had ever heard the silent man say in one sitting that didn't involve mission critical intelligence. Since he was being so forthcoming, Fynta decided to poke around for more information. "Do you have a lot of relatives?"

Again, Yuun tilted his head sideways in a slow nod. "Many times many, Major."

"I'll bet they are proud of what you have become." Fynta was almost afraid to ask for an exact number, concerned it might make the insect stigma resurface. She was just starting to figure Yuun out. The Gand was probably the most complicated soldier of all of them.

"Nameless or not, each Gand is individual with separate thoughts on the matter. Yuun's mother asked about the Zaviir-juna and was displeased with this Gand for not making time for it."

"The-what?"

If Fynta could have seen Yuun's mouth under the breathing apparatus he wore, she was sure there would be a patient smile there. According to Dorne, though, that would never happen, as the oxygen rich environments they visited were too hard of his ammonia soaked lungs.

When Yuun answered, it was with the same patient tones Fynta had become accustomed to. "To be a Findsman is not a singular state of being-there are many graduations that reveal themselves to the Findsman over time. Zaviir-juna is the trial that Yuun must complete to advance in the Findsman art. It is a hunt for the greatest Findsman of all: The Zaviir."

Fynta blinked at the man, then at the chrono when it chirped to alert that they would be dropping out of hyperspace within the hour. She chose to ignore it for the moment, more interested in Yuun's overly complicated existence. Until the sounds of armor smacking against the ship's floor grabbed her attention. Without thinking, Fynta jumped out of her seat and leapt down the stairs, stopping just short of landing on Vik. "What the-"

A half armored Weequay was sprawled out on the floor, laughing and rubbing his left cheek. "Captain's got a hell of a right hook," Vik said, tilting his head back to look up at Fynta.

Sure enough, Jorgan was standing opposite of Vik in his leg plates and fibermesh underarmor shirt, shoulders still hunched from the blow. "Do I even want to know?" Fynta asked.

Jorgan straightened and rubbed the knuckles on his right hand, "We came to an understanding."

Vik clambered back to his feet. "Yeah, the captain's love life is off the table." The Weequay looked down at Fynta and smirked. "All I did was compliment the scratches on his back."

Fynta's mouth fell open. _Oh shab._ She resisted the urge to adjust the collar of her shirt to ensure the bite mark on her shoulder wasn't visible. "It's probably best if you stay out of everyone's love life, Vik. Now go clean yourself up before you bleed on my clean floor." Cormac snorted and Fynta didn't dare look at him. She knew that he'd have that stupid grin on his face and she'd completely lose it, revealing everything she was trying to hide.

Vik chuckled, sparing Jorgan a toothy grin as he passed on his way to the refreshers. Once the door shut behind him, Fynta raised an eyebrow. The Cathar shrugged and turned back towards his bunk to finish getting dressed. Fynta was sure she saw the beginnings of a satisfied smile on his lips.

**Belsavis  
** **Republic Guardpost Beta**

Jorgan was pulling on his gauntlets by the airlock when Fynta joined the rest of the squad. "Alright, people. Listen up, we are looking for a Kel'dor by the name of Zess. He's a captain. I doubt there are very many Kel'dor around here, so finding him shouldn't take longer than a couple of hours."

Elara and Cormac paired up and headed off towards the eastern wing of the complex. Generally, Fynta didn't let them work together, but given this was a non combat situation, Jorgan wasn't surprised that she allowed it. Vik and Yuun turned west with a few muttered remarks from the Weequay about being _nobody's errand boy_. Jorgan fell in step with his commanding officer, realizing these moments would become treasured rarities as they began to separate their personal and professional relationships.

They walked in companionable silence, stopping to ask about the whereabouts of Captain Zess in each new section they entered. Fynta pulled up short, looking at the small screen on her gauntlet as text scrolled across in a language that Jorgan didn't recognize. She blinked at the readout, then snorted a humorless laugh and activated her comm.

"Fyn'ika!" The voice was loud enough to carry and Fynta slapped her hand over her wrist as she stepped to the side of the hall.

"Me'copaani?" Fynta hissed into her comm and Jorgan raised a brow at her. If he had to guess, the man on the other end of that call was Verin, Fynta's brother. Meaning the text had been in Mando'a and she hadn't liked what she read.

"That's how you greet me after all I've done for you?" The man feigned insult and Fynta rolled her eyes. "Me'vaar ti gar?"

Fynta rubbed her fingers over her brow and Jorgan actually grinned. He imagined this was what he looked like most of the time while putting up with Fynta's antics. So, the thought that there was a person out there that could exasperate the major made Jorgan immensely happy.

After a quick glare at the Cathar, Fynta returned her attention to the main source of her frustration. "Your message said you were on Belsavis." Her lips compressed into a tight line. "How did you know I was here?"

"We have our sources, you can't dodge all of them, Fyn'ika." Came the response and Jorgan was suddenly feeling less entertained. "Don't flatter yourself, we've got a mark on this world too."

"Is it Republic?" Fynta asked. Jorgan's entire body tensed while he waited for the answer.

Verin took his sweet time answering. "No, not Republic. Freelance guy. All the same, we might stray into each other's crosshairs if we aren't careful."

"Fine, just keep me updated on where you are and I'll try not to shoot you," Fynta snapped.

Verin chuckled and Fynta's eyes narrowed further. "Of course, vod'ika. We should talk after your mission. I'll wait for you." Verin paused, then his voice dropped an octave. "Say hi to your Cathar friend for me." Then the link was severed.

The two Havoc soldiers stood there staring at her gauntlet for a few more seconds before Fynta swore.

**High Security Section  
** **Republic Watchtower**

"You get all that, Dorne?"

Elara was currently pillaging all the medical supplies she could carry from the limited stock on base. "Yes, sir. On it now." Fynta and Jorgan managed to track down Dagger Wing's XO, a man named Harlan. His squad was trying to aid in the recapture of escaped prisoners, but had taken heavy casualties when they ran into a group of Imperials

"Excellent, everyone meet up at these coordinates." Elara's HUD flashed, alerting her to incoming data. "Vik, you and Yuun got what we need?"

_"Yeah, boss. The bug and I are right next to the rendezvous."_

Elara shut a drawer with her hip while she listened to the status of her comrades. Harlan said their medic was down. She had to operate under the assumption that meant deceased and they'd already pillaged the medical supplies. Thankfully, one of the guards had given Elara a threadbare sack to carry the extras.

"Yuun has secured transport, Major," the Gand intoned patiently as Elara hefted the pack and hurried out the door. As soon as she exited the infirmary, Balic grabbed the bag of supplies off her shoulders, hoisting it onto his own, and the two ran for the rendezvous.

Yuun's transport turned out to be a prison bus, which Elara guessed worked rather well given all the extra kit they were traveling with. No one objected when the Gand offered to drive. Captain Jorgan took the first row, propping his sniper rifle next to him, while Balic squeezed into the seat directly behind and started up a conversation on the latest scopes on the market.

Elara was sitting on the bench next to Fynta, the two of them sharing in a rare moment of private conversation, when Vik cut in. "Looks like we're in the right place." The Weequay was in the passenger seat, his arm propped on the door as he surveyed the landscape.

Fynta stood and looked out the top slit that served as a window while Elara took the one below it. Bodies lay everywhere, some blown apart, others hunched in shrubbery. The scenery was ghastly, a true representation of the violence this planet contained despite its natural beauty and abundant wildlife.

"You sure Verin hasn't been here?" Jorgan asked from behind them. When Elara turned towards the Cathar, there was a slight smile on his normally stoic features.

Fynta looked up at him too, then slipped her helmet on without a word. She returned a couple of minutes later, placing it back on the seat. "No, they're in another sector."

"Does that mean your brother is here, on Belsavis?" Elara asked before she could stop herself.

"Awe man," Vik grumbled.

Balic sniggered and smacked the Weequay on the back as he leaned forward to look out the front window. "Been a long time since Balmorra, think they've missed you?" Vik's reply was a garbled muttering in Rodese that made Balic laugh harder.

Fynta sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose, an unnatural movement that reminded Elara a lot of Jorgan, whose minute smile had grown into a smirk. "They've got a mark on this planet, but I've been assured-" the bus came to a jarring halt, causing Fynta to stumble sideways into Jorgan, who staggered, wrapping an arm around her waist and throwing the other out to brace them against the door.

"We have arrived," Yuun announced.

Jorgan grunted, pushing them both vertical again and stepping away from the major quickly. "How about a little warning next time."

Balic looked over his shoulder and his face lit up. Elara quickly stood and grabbed her husband's helmet, tossing it to him before he could finish the statement she could see building on his lips. "Balic, you'll need this." The man grunted as the heavy beskar landed in his hands. He looked at her for a moment in confusion, then Balic winked and slipped it on. Elara heaved a sigh of relief until she heard her personal comm chirp.

Slipping her own helmet on and activating the comm, she was met by Balic's barely contained laughter. "Bet _that's_ what happened in the armory." Elara rolled her eyes.

The major patted Jorgan's chest plate with an endearing smile before opening the side door and holding her hand out. "Alright everyone, oya!"

The command to begin the hunt was accepted with less enthusiasm than usual as Havoc found themselves slogging through the tattered corpses of guards, inmates, and Imperials alike. They had just entered the sublevel of the complex containing specialized prison cells for the most dangerous criminals when Jorgan called a halt. "You hear that?"

"Blaster fire. Let's move!" Fynta ordered, breaking into a steady jog that led them further into the Vaults. Elara's foot slipped in what she was fairly certain was blood as they descended the ramp to the next floor. Fynta and Jorgan rounded the corner first, both immediately ducking into a low running squat. Vik and Yuun took up cover positions by the pillars while Elara and Balic dashed in after the two commanders into a raging combat zone.

"Dagger Wing is still kicking, you murdering cowards!" A broad shouldered man with dark hair was yelling into the shadows..

Fynta raised her rifle in sync with Jorgan and began firing before Elara reached the first casualty. Cormac set to work pulling the injured to safety while she began to assess their wounds. After a few moments, it grew quiet. Elara looked up in time to see Fynta emerging from a pile of rubble with a smaller man hanging on her shoulder. Jorgan helped the major set the man down before waving her over.

"Dorne, we've got a bleeder," Fynta called over their comms.

Elara hurried over and crouched in front of the soldier, her triage programs hastily scrolling information across her HUD. He had a shallow gut wound, a through and through of the left flank. Three more centimeters and it would have pierced his spleen. Thankfully, this man's only concern would be pain management as stopping the bleeding was relatively easy.

Leaning him back against the permacrete, Elara set the automated medpac to do its work and ordered the man to stay still. He responded with a grunt and squeezed his eyes shut. Fynta patted Elara's shoulder as she pushed to her feet and focused on the man talking with Balic and Jorgan. "Your backup is here, Harlan. Along with medpacs and a damn fine medic."

Elara ignored the compliment and stood to find that Yuun had already begun triaging the other wounded. He motioned her towards the next in need of attention while Harlan looked on. "Best news I've had all day. Never thought they'd send Havoc Squad after us."

"We are here to pull you out. I want the Imperials' position, their armament, everything," Fynta said. "Sooner we take them out, the sooner we can round up the rest of your unit."

"They're dug in farther into the tunnels, and they've got some serious heat. If we hadn't caught them by surprise, we'd all be dead," Harlan explained while Elara exhausted every emergency procedure scenario at her disposal in an effort to save the woman she was examining. She had multiple areas of penetration across a small area where shrapnel had pierced her brain. This was beyond Elara's ability to heal; this woman needed a brain surgeon.

Harlan continued his sitrep with the others while Elara checked the woman's pupil dilation. "There may even be worse things in here, I've heard there's scary stuff locked in these vaults, nobody opens them, ever."

"We'll keep our eyes open for anything unusual." Fynta motioned for Vik to join the three of them. "Vik, you and I are taking point. Destroy anything that moves. Jorgan, Cormac you're on the rear. Dorne, do what you can here, Yuun will stay to assist." Elara nodded without taking her eyes off the woman before, vaguely aware of Fynta giving the signal for Havoc Squad to move out, leaving what was left of Harlan's men to watch the entrance.

Elara removed her helmet when the woman she was occupied with worsened. It was a something she'd picked up from Fynta. The major believed no one should die looking at a blank faceplate; people needed to see other people. "Yuun, would you please see to the walking wounded." The Gand's only response was to collect a couple of medpacks before following orders.

"Sir," Elara called over her shoulder. Harlan ambled over and dropped to one knee. "Ah stang _._ " He leaned forward, brushing the woman's short hair out of her eyes. "Ella, I didn't realized you'd been hit so bad." Elara made a point to commit the name to memory.

"So'kay, sir. S-s-s'not all that bad," Ella slurred as her eyelids fluttered and her voice softened. "Think I'll just-just s-s-leep. . . ."

"Not a chance, soldier, you stay awake."

Elara put a hand on Harlan's arm and shook her head. "That's a splendid idea, Ella. Get some rest. We'll wake you when it's time to move out." Harlan met hers and hung his head with the realization that there was nothing more to be done. Elara stood to find her next patient, leaving him alone with his comrade.

"Medic!"

Two soldiers in Imperial uniforms stumbled out of the corridor into the small clearing where Dagger Wing had set up its barricade. The uninjured Republic soldiers rushed forward with weapons raised. The woman dropped to her knees at once, her free hand raised to show she was unarmed while the other held tightly to her male counterpart.

"Let me through!" Elara shoved past the Republic soldiers and knelt in front of the woman, helping her ease the man to the floor. Harlan motioned for a couple of his men to secure the woman while Elara examined the man. "What happened?"

"Bloody idiots opened the vaults," the woman said, spitting a gob of blood onto the dirt. "Those things are filled with creatures. Vile things." She had a thick accent that spoke of a low birth and a rough childhood. No doubt she'd joined the military just to ensure three square meals a day.

"What is his name?" Elara asked, bending over the male. His face was covered in blood, his scalp merely a flap of skin hanging over a shattered skull. She felt for a pulse and came up empty.

"Don't know. Never seen him before, but couldn't leave him wailing like that," the woman replied as her arms were pulled behind her back and cuffed.

"And yours?"

She winced as the soldiers pulled her to her feet. "Breash Drivola." Elara noted the way the woman favored her left leg, but Breash didn't complain. Instead, she nodded at the man, "He going to make it?"

"I'm afraid not, he's gone," Elara answered. Breash lowered her chin and Elara realized this was a prime example of what she had tried to explain to Jorgan so many times. Breash Drivola had tried to save a man she didn't know, simply because he needed saving. "Harlan, please have the prisoner sit, I need to examine her leg."

Harlan gave Elara a long, hard look before ordering for his men to seat the prisoner on the edge of a collapsed wall. The medic noted that Harlen had replaced Ella's helmet, signaling her passing, and realized this situation was a delicate one. "Lieutenant Yuun, would you help me remove her boot?" While the Gand bent to his task, Elara took the opportunity to check on Havoc Squad.

Something rumbled deeper in the vaults and falling rubble filled Vik's POV. "Bit much, don't you think?" Fynta said casually.

"Nah, boss. Just being thorough."

"You nearly brought the whole damn roof down on our heads," Jorgan growled. As the smoke cleared, Elara could see that they were headed back towards the entrance where she and the rest were waiting.

Shouting pulled Elara's attention back to her immediate surroundings and she lifted the helmet to find a crowd closing in around Breash. "Don't waste medical supplies on this piece of Imp scum, put her down like the dog she is," one of the male soldiers snarled. Breash didn't try to defend herself, just stared at her boots.

"That is not the way the Republic treats its prisoners," Elara stated firmly. She hadn't gone through a grueling defection only to watch Republic soldiers slip into the same darkness she'd left behind. All the same, Harlen waved the soldiers who weren't guarding the Imperial prisoner away. Pausing only to sneer in the woman's face, he stalked off to join his men. No doubt the pain of losing his comrade only compounded by having to protect one of the people he deemed responsible for her death.

Elara had just finished wrapping Breash's leg when Harlan called out to the returning squad. "Hey there, Major." Elara glanced up with relief to see all four of them walking under their own power. "Sounded like some serious fighting. You alright there, ground-pounder?" He asked with forced mirth.

Fynta removed her helmet and shook out her plait. "Nothing we couldn't handle. Some nasty wildlife had made a few nests down here and took out the Imps before we had a chance to."

Harlan harrumphed, glancing at their new prisoner, "You don't say."

"What's this?" Fynta joined Elara, staring down at the Imperial woman, while Jorgan remained to speak with Harlan. Breash gave the same explanation, but Elara was listening to the men this time.

Harlan had lowered his voice. "Look, it's good to hear that Command wants us back, but they burned us pretty bad."

"We've heard that before," Jorgan said, glancing over to where Elara and Fynta were still busy with Breash. Elara tried to remain pragmatic, though the growing number of these cases was beginning to concern her.

Harlan put his hands on his hips, "I don't know what they told you about us, but we aren't murderers. We never would've launched if we'd known that complex was full of civilians."

"What did you think you were bombing?" Fynta asked, walking over to join the men. Seemingly pleased with Breash's responses.

"Our target was a Sith Lord named Ordorru," Harlan explained. "A real sadistic bit of scum. He's razed dozens of Republic colonies and left no survivors. Intel put Ordorru on Fest with nothing but soldiers and factories for company." Harlan sighed, "We launched at full burn, dropped everything we had. Now we're here."

"That must have been hard on your unit," Fynta responded, dark blue eyes sweeping over the remainders of Harlan's squad. He was down by half; those were difficult numbers to handle.

Harlan gave another humorless laugh. "If not for Commander Gall, the men would've gone rouge for sure." He paused when an antiquated holo buzzed on his belt. "Ah, speaking of the men." As soon as Harlan answered the call, he was greeted by a soldier in clear distress.

"Harlan, sir. We've got a situation here." Blaster fire served as background noise to the human male shown kneeling on the receiver. "Liv, Ty, and Symo are trapped in one of the prison complexes. We can't get them out."

"Great," Harlan muttered before responding to the soldier. "Hang tight, Kal. We'll get you some backup on the double." The man looked back at Fynta and Elara swore he almost smiled. "What do you say, Major? You need _all_ of Dagger Wing, right? Care to go two for two on rescue ops today?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> Tiingilar: an intensely spicy Mandalorian casserole made with meat, vegetables, and potent spices.
> 
> kovid [KOV-eed] head
> 
> cyar'ika [shar-EE-kah] darling, sweetheart
> 
> Mand'alor [MAHN-dah-lor] sole ruler
> 
> chakaar [chah-KAR] corpse robber, thief, petty criminal - general term of abuse
> 
> shab - excrement (used as a curse)
> 
> [EE-kah] suffix. little. denotes endearment when added to a name.
> 
> Me'copaani? [Meh ko-PAH-nee?] What do you want?
> 
> Me'vaar ti gar? [Meh-VAR tee-GAR] How are you? (Lit: what's new with you?)
> 
> vod'ika [vohd-EE-kah] little sister
> 
> Oya! [OY-ah!] Many meanings: literally (Let's hunt!) and also (Stay alive!), but also (Hoorah!, Go you!,Cheers!) Always positive and triumphant.
> 
> Other Languages:
> 
> Stang: an expletive originating on Alderaan.


	25. Overlapping Targets

 

**Belsavis  
** **Labor Camp**

"Fierfek _._ "

Fynta only used that word when she was surprised or exasperated, which was becoming a common theme lately. "It couldn't be just a simple case of hostage rescue, could it?" Fynta growled.

Jorgan crouched beside her, watching a group of soldiers argue over what should be done with a Chagrian prisoner. While they bickered over whether to lock him back in a cell or escort him to the surface in shock cuffs, the criminal knelt calmly on the floor.

"Anyone know who this guy is?" Fynta asked.

"Yes, sir," Dorne answered in a tight voice. "His crimes are appalling."

Fynta sighed, and walked into the room. Jorgan followed, rifle at the ready. They were greeted briefly by raised weapons of varying types until the soldiers noticed the Havoc badges. "Alright Dagger Wing, I've been sent to pull you out. Ready to get off this rock?"

The Chagrian chose that moment to chuckle, cutting off any responses from the soldiers. The sound made all the hair on Jorgan's body stand on end. "I go free, whether you stay or not." His freakishly blue eyes slid over Fynta, and Jorgan's finger tightened on the trigger. "Then we'll have some fun."

The major responded by unholstering her blaster, flipping it over, and smacking the prisoner across the face with the grip. It was a smooth movement that spoke of years of practice. "Shut your mouth and let the adults talk."

The Chagrian started forward with a growl and Jorgan fired a bolt into the floor at the man's knees. "Move again, and I'll drop you, scumbag." Jorgan really hoped he tried, he'd love to end this guy. Instead, the prisoner settled back onto his heels with a snarl. Fynta glanced over her shoulder. Jorgan couldn't see her face, but he was pretty sure the major had winked.

Fynta continued, putting her hands on her hips to display her annoyance. "The whole planet is going to hell, and you four are squabbling like school kids. This is war, people. Trading four good men for one prisoner is laughable. Just leave the chakaaryc here and move out."

The soldiers stared at Fynta for a few heartbeats before the silent nods of agreement began. One guard was making weak arguments for not leaving the Chagrian behind, when the man in question began to chuckle again. "I'm going to find you when I'm out. You, me, and a blade… we'll get cozy together."

Without warning, Fynta turned and put a bolt in the guy's pointed head. "Problem solved," she added, slamming her blaster back into its holster and strutting away before the prisoner's body hit the ground.

The Dagger Wing pilots fell in silently and began their trek back to the surface, leaving the mouthy guard behind to stare at the body of his charge. Jorgan lengthened his stride to walk next to Fynta, not quite believing the words about to leave his own lips. "Probably would've been easier if we'd done that from the beginning."

"Yeah, probably," Fynta snorted, dusting her hands together. She made a silent motion for Vik and Cormac to take point on the way out.

"Hindsight's a bitch," Vik said as he jogged past to catch up with Cormac.

Jorgan scooped up a small piece of rubble and lobbed it at the Weequay, grinning when it bounced off his helmet. Fynta opened a private line and Jorgan could hear the repressed laughter in her voice. "See, I am rubbing off on you."

**Prison Transfer and Processing**

A vein bulged alarmingly in Verin's forehead as he stood on his toes, face to face with the Houk who had relentlessly hounded them. Cinlat rarely saw her husband angry, but now he was screaming and flapping his arms.

"She didn't have nothing to say anyway," Skadge replied, crossing large arms across a barrel chest, daring Verin to hit him.

Verin glared at the Houk with balled fists. "It's probably because she's got a shabbing concussion!"

Cinlat sighed and crouched next to the woman on the ground. She was bleeding from her ears and nose, sobbing as she curled tighter into a fetal position. The bounty hunter gently stroked the woman's hair, eliciting a squeak.

Their target was Zale Barrows, the so called _Ferryman_. He smuggled supplies to and from Belsavis for the Republic. Darth Torman wanted the guy put out of business, and the Sith was willing to pay a hefty fee for it too. Unfortunately, the Houk, who Verin was trying hard not to throttle at the moment, had gotten to Zale's girlfriend first. The moron had beaten the osik out of her by way of interrogation.

"Sorry we didn't get here sooner, darling," Cinlat said. Her helmet was on the ground with the recognizable T-shaped faceplate hidden from the woman's view. Leaning down a little further, the bounty hunter crooned softly. "Zale will be here soon, I'm sure." _Then I can cryo the chakaar and get away from this blasted Houk._ Cinlat continued to brush the a light skinned Zabrak's blood soaked hair and made promises she had no intention of keeping.

The woman shook her head and sobbed again. "He's not coming back."

"Why wouldn't he?" Cinlat asked in a tender voice. This whole female bonding thing was an annoying, but necessary ruse.

"Cameras, he knows you're here," the girlfriend responded before collapsing in a fit of coughing. Cinlat noted that a lot of what the woman spit out was blood, which meant Skadge had broken something fairly important. She didn't have long.

"Maybe we can get you to him," Cinlat suggested. _Just tell me where he's gone to, stupid girl._

"He's at the power plant with our astromech-" the woman coughed more, wheezing as she tried to draw another breath. At some point, she'd latched onto the bounty hunter's boot. "To-to turn the power back on to the prison."

Cinlat had what she needed.

"Why don't you get some rest, sugar." As much as Cinlat hated it, she could pour on sweet and innocent almost as well as Fynta. Maybe better, since her physical stature wasn't even remotely intimidating. While continuing to make soothing noises, Cinlat discreetly pulled her blaster from its holster and lined the barrel up with the back of the woman's head. Without a moment's hesitation, she squeezed the trigger.

The shot echoed off the walls of the small room, and the woman's hand went limp, sliding from her boot. The argument between the two men stopped abruptly. Cinlat stood, holstered her blaster, and checked her plates to ensure she wasn't covered in brain matter. Once satisfied, she turned to find her companions still staring at the corpse.

Verin took the hint when Cinlat slipped her helmet on, and once they were sequestered from the outside world, she shared her information. "Zale's at the power plant with an astromech trying to turn the power back on. This place is full of cameras, so he already knows he can't come back here."

"Ah," Verin said as they headed for the exit. "And the woman?"

Cinlat shrugged. "She was dead anyway, I eased her suffering."

Verin was silent until they reached the speeder bikes. "What do we do about Skadge?"

"Other than shoot him?" Cinlat paused at the bike while Verin settled onto the bench seat.

His faceplate turned towards her, but Cinlat could see through his pov that Verin was eyeing the Houk who'd followed them out. "Tempting."

Cinlat sighed. "There's only one speeder, we'll just leave him behind."

Her personal comm chirped with Fynta's frequency code and Cinlat held up a hand to tell Verin to wait while she answered. "Everything okay, Fyn'ika?"

"Sorry, Cin. Hope I'm not interrupting anything." Cinlat could hear blaster fire as the commando spoke, but she didn't sound in pain.

"Caught us in transit," Cinlat answered, then paused as more blaster fire drowned out Fynta's response. "Who's shooting at you?"

"Imperials. We've kicked the nest on a few troublesome commando squads." There was a pause and what sounded like return fire. "What sector are you two in?"

Cinlat pulled the map up on her HUD to find their exact coordinates. "Looks like we are near the max security area. Headed to the power plant."

" _How near?"_

"Maybe three klicks." Cinlat paused and shook her head when Verin made a silent, questioning gesture. "Why?"

"Oh, good," Fynta responded, then shouted something that Cinlat assumed wasn't directed at her. "Sorry about that. Anyway, don't get any closer until it's over."

"Fynta, are you about to do something stupid?" Cinlat asked, ignoring Verin, who was impatiently tapping his wrist chrono from where he sat on the speederbike. It concerned her when Fynta gave proximity warnings.

"Of course not!" Fynta laughed, and the line went dead.

Cinlat assumed she would know when whatever Fynta was doing, was over. Luckily, the power plant wasn't inside the blast radius. Climbing onto the bike behind Verin, Cinlat opened the line to fill him in on the conversation. "I think your little sister is about to make a big mess. She was calling to tell us to stay outside of the maximum security quadrant until it's over."

"Until what's over?" He asked, starting the engine on the bike.

Cinlat shrugged, "It's your sister."

Verin chuckled. He knew what that meant. Fynta liked to watch things explode, and from what they'd heard, Havoc Squad had made a lot of things explode lately.

"Hold on, riduur," Verin said just before the speederbike lurched forward, leaving the Houk spitting curses behind them. Cinlat leaned forward and rested her helmet against Verin's back, tightening her hold around his waist.

The full moon provided plenty of light to the landscape. This planet was nice; warm weather, full of life and color. It was times like this, where they could just ride along like any other couple, that made Cinlat's life worthwhile. Verin took one hand off the steering handle and patted her arm, his way of telling her he loved her. For now, they could enjoy this brief moment of peace, because when she finally caught up to Barrows, Cinlat didn't plan on being merciful.

**Maximum Security Section  
** **Operations Access Road**

The landscape in the Maximum Security Section looked like every other area Havoc had traipsed through since getting off that damn bus. The vegetation was vibrant and breathtaking, as were the corpses and variety of blood spatter. Jorgan wasn't sure if he was impressed that the animals didn't seem bothered by the constant din of blaster fire, or repulsed.

To top it all off, Jorgan had overheard the guards placing bets on who would come out on top in the minor gang war that had erupted once all the cells opened. So far, it sounded like the Rattataki were favored.

Havoc Squad was here to help clear out some Imperial guerrillas that were making things difficult on Conrad Gall, commanding officer of Dagger Wing. He'd contacted Fynta to inform her about the large contingent of Imperial personnel he was tracking across the prison zones. Of course, Fynta had offered to cut them off in the maximum security area to aid their chances in putting an end to this. The major seemed on edge, and Jorgan knew it had nothing to do with being in the middle of a warzone. She might not admit it outright, but Fynta was nervous being so close to her brother. Jorgan could only guess as to why, only that she wanted to get as far away from Verin as possible.

The lack of Imperial activity in this sector was surprising, mostly just ill-equipped prisoners running amok with nowhere to go. The commandos they'd faced a few klicks back had been sturdy, but eventually neutralized. Since then, nothing.

Fynta had a theory that they were dug in, waiting for a real threat to come along. Her plan was to flush the Imperials out all at once, then pick them off. Of course, as with most of Fynta's plans, it involved plenty of detonite. Cormac and Vik had approved, immediately descending into an argument over the details.

Havoc Squad was on approach to the coordinates for what the duo calculated to be the best area for an _all-inclusive assault_. A minute sound, something Jorgan couldn't consciously identify, caused the Cathar to call for a halt. Suddenly, a young human male shot up from behind some debris with a rifle trained on them.

Havoc reacted, each member responding in kind. The soldiers took half a second to recognize one another's alliances before the man lowered his rifle. "They're here, Adan," he called over his shoulder before smiling at Fynta. "We're sure glad you're showed up."

Fynta removed her helmet and nodded a greeting to the soldier, who Jorgan now realized was wearing Dagger Wing colors. Another man approached and Jorgan and Fynta tipped their heads back in unison to stare up at a massive Cathar. Jorgan watched the male warily, given the last two they'd come into contact with weren't exactly cordial. Meanwhile, Fynta's head tilted to one side as she studied the stranger openly.

Adan dipped his head politely. The pattern of spots around his golden eyes made him look less ferocious than the average Cathar, despite his large stature. "You're just in time. Commander Gall rushed off after the Imps. We were told to hold this position, and wait for you." His voice was higher than Jorgan's, but still had the rumbling undertones that gave it an almost musical quality.

The first guy, almost forgotten in Adan's overwhelming presence, pushed forward in his excitement. "Ondorru was with them! Lord Ondorru; the Sith we were trying to take out on Fest!" That pulled Fynta's attention from the towering Cathar back to Myles, who flapped his hands incessantly. "He's here, now, on Belsavis!"

Adan put a hand on the smaller man's shoulder, speaking in a calmer voice. "You've got to understand. Ondorru is the reason we're all here. Commander Gall couldn't let that filth escape. When the Imperials started pulling out, Gall took a handful of men and followed them." Jorgan gaped at how calm Adan was, almost serene. Definitely a far cry from normal Cathar behavior. "It was too good an opportunity to pass up."

A memory tickled at the back of Jorgan's mind. Something Dorne had said on the ship about the Imperials only staging a prison break if there were Sith involved. He glanced back at the medic. Elara met Jorgan's eyes briefly, her concern evident, and he wondered just how powerful this Ondorru guy was.

Fynta nodded to the pilots. "Sounds like we should wrap this up quickly so we can find your CO." At a simple gesture from the major, Vik and Cormac started pulling out their supplies.

Adan watched the Weequay set to work while Cormac followed behind unspooling wire. He continued relaying information to Fynta even while his eyes followed the demolitionists. "There were remote charges in the tunnel. It collapsed just after our people moved through." Adan raised an eyebrow when Vik started digging. "Uh, what's he doing?"

Fynta ignored the question, not even glancing back at the Weequay. "Can you tell me where this tunnel leads?"

"The tunnel lets out on the other side of the maximum security area," Adan replied, pulling his attention back to Fynta and slapping the smaller man on the shoulder again. "Or at least, it used to. Myles here, has the schematics memorized."

Myles nodded, bouncing on his toes, full of energy. "The only other way in is through the main entrance. There's a lot of fighting there, but it's the only option left to reach Commander Gall." He was all but shoving them in that direction, clearly eager for Havoc Squad to catch up to his comrades.

Fynta rubbed her chin while staring at her boots. They stood in silence, waiting for the major to choose which course of action she wanted to take next. When Fynta looked up at the surrounding soldiers, her dark blue eyes were determined. "You boys head back to the rendezvous," she said with a nod to Adan and Myles. "You've earned some rest, and we may need someone back at base to direct medical aid."

Myles saluted Fynta. "Yes sir, you'll find the main entrance is a little different, by the way. It's a portal, not a door. Hard to explain, but you'll know it when you see it."

Adan chuckled as he and the energetic pilot started back in the direction of the closest guard tower. "Good luck, Major."

Something about the way he laughed, or maybe it was the shared glance between the two men, told Jorgan that he wasn't going to like the main entrance in the slightest.

**Prison Maintenance  
Industrial Facility**

Verin brought the speeder bike to a stop and dismounted. "Think Zale's still here?"

Cinlat climbed off and looked towards the maximum security prison. She could see the walls from here, and wondered if Fynta had done _it_ yet. Probably not, Cinlat decided, returning her attention to her husband, and pulling both of her blasters. "Only one way to find out."

Verin grabbed his rifle, and together they entered the power plant. They had no sooner stepped through the door, when the power switched on with a mechanical hum. The lights flickered and a couple shattered as their outdated filaments overloaded, dripping green, glowing fluid onto the floor. The highlighted hallway was the standard rusted metal of every other industrial facility Cinlat had entered.

"Well, at least we know where to find him," Verin said, starting towards the control room. The great thing about industrial buildings is that they were all laid out the same way. Sure enough, Zale was at the controls, arguing with an astromech, right where expected.

"Keep that forceshield up, or you'll be scrap too," Zale growled and the little astromech beeped indignantly. When he looked up to see Cinlat and Verin standing on the other side, the man sneered. "Sorry, hunters. Not today."

Cinlat heard the thudding of heavy footsteps and stepped aside as Skadge threw himself at the forceshield, bouncing off with a satisfying sizzle. The Houk scrambled to his feet and began pounding on the barrier. "I'll tear you apart, Barrows!"

"Keep at it, pal," Verin said, hooking his rifle back over his back and crossing his arms.

Cinlat shook her head and wondered idly how the annoying creature had gotten here so quickly, and how he knew where to come. Surely she hadn't underestimated Skadge's intelligence that badly. "Come on Verin, we can shut down the external generators. I'll take west." Cinlat shoved her blasters into their holsters and took solace in the familiar feeling of the long barrels smacking her legs as she walked.

"Guess I've got east." Verin stopped and pointed at the Houk, "If he's dead when I get back, I'm going to be really unhappy." Skadge snorted in reply, then started banging on the forceshield and hurling insults at the man inside.

Cinlat and Verin parted ways just outside the main door. "How do we always end up with these jobs?" He asked over the comm. Cinlat had been wondering that for the last year and decided it all went back to that shabbing Supreme Chancellor and his bogus accusations. Well, mostly bogus.

Verin's comm was still open when he blew the generator and Cinlat's helmet automatically deafened the sound feeding through. The genny was easy enough to find, and she put a few bolts into it. Hers didn't so much explode as spark and hiss, but Cinlat assumed that was good enough because the mechanical noises stopped.

Verin was waiting by the door when Cinlat came around the side of the building. He went rigid, putting Cinlat on alert. Her blasters were halfway out of their holsters when the ground shook violently beneath her feet and a brilliant light reflected off Verin's faceplate. Time slowed as she turned to see the night sky burn as a bright as noon. "Oh," she started to say. That must be _IT_. A second later, the pressure wave knocked Cinlat off her feet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> Fierfek [FIRE-fek] a Huttese slang word that meant "hex" or "curse," but was commonly accepted to mean "poison" by non-Huttese-speaking races. Later adopted as an expletive.
> 
> chakaaryc [chah- KAR-eesh] rotten, low-life, - generic adjective to describe an undesirable person of dubious ethics
> 
> osik [OH-sik] dung (impolite)
> 
> chakaar [chah-KAR] corpse robber, thief, petty criminal - general term of abuse
> 
> chakaar [chah-KAR] corpse robber, thief, petty criminal - general term of abuse
> 
> riduur [REE-door] partner, spouse, husband, wife


	26. Crosshairs

**Maximum Security Section  
** **Operations Access Road**

Fynta coughed even though her helmet kept out all the debris; it was human habit. She pushed a few chunks of rock off of herself and checked in with her squad. "Sitrep, now," Fynta groaned as she scrambled to her feet. Everything within a square kilometer of their target had been reduced to rubble and slag.

"I'm functional," Dorne replied first, but her voice was strained.

"Hold on, doll, I've got ya." That accounted for Cormac, who was clearly helping Elara with whatever she needed.

"I'm good too," Vik announced.

Yuun trailed on about the flow of life and the directional velocity of the rubble around him until Fynta interrupted. "Jorgan?"

For a few, long seconds Fynta's heart hammered in her ears until his comm clicked. "I'm pinned, but otherwise uninjured."

With everyone accounted for, Havoc started digging through the rubble to find their lost Cathar. Vik spotted him first and waved Fynta over, "Got him, boss."

Jorgan laid on his back with one foot braced against a large portion of permacrete. His left leg vanished beneath it, and Fynta's gut clenched as she hopped into the depression to examine the damage.

Fynta gave Jorgan's free leg a pat to tell him to move it out of the way while the rest of the squad encircled him. Everyone chose a side based on Dorne's hypothesis of where the majority of the weight was centered, then waited for the medic's order to lift.

"Can you feel your toes, sir?" Dorne asked.

"Yeah," Jorgan responded through clenched teeth. Worry gnawed at Fynta when she heard the pain in his voice.

"Excellent." Dorne said, then turned to the rest of the team. "Ready? On three." They lifted in unison, and Jorgan crab walked backwards to dislodge himself. Once the slab was discarded, Fynta offered him a hand. The Cathar tested his weight on the leg, and she noticed that the plate above his knee had a substantial dent in it.

"Good thing you outfit your soldiers with the best," Jorgan commented as he took a few hobbled steps.

Armor reminded Fynta of her brother, which reminded her that the blast had been much larger than she'd warned Cinlat about. Fynta opened a line to Verin's personal comm. It beeped twice before he answered.

_"Fierfek, Fynta!"_

She breathed easier. If Verin was swearing; he was alive. "A little overkill don't ya think?"

Cinlat patched in too. "Next time, I'm asking what IT is. We lost our bounty." The woman sounded angry, but Fynta was just glad they were alive. She cut the line without answering, and held her hands out in a _what the shab gesture_ towards Vik.

"Not really sure. Shouldn't have been that big." The Weequay sounded truly perplexed as he squatted to study the debris.

"What exactly did you wire them to?" Fynta asked while keeping an eye on Jorgan. He hadn't said a word, not even to call Vik an idiot, which concerned Fynta.

Vik shrugged, "I tied them into the power lines that run beneath the prison. They should have been running on backup gennys, which don't put out as much kick."

"Hold up," Fynta said, lifting a hand as she contacted Verin again.

"Yeah?" Verin answered immediately this time.

Fynta nudged at some rocks with the toe of her boot, and tried not to sound like a little sister. "Did you switch on the power plant?"

"No," Verin responded with an indignant snort. "Our mark did."

"Fierfek." Fynta disconnected again and addressed the squad. "Bad luck. Someone turned the plant back on just before Vik hit the button."

"Are you kidding me?" Jorgan threw his hands up in defeat and limped away, presumably to mutter while he nursed his leg.

Vik crossed his arms. "That'll do it."

If she wasn't wearing a helmet, Fynta would have rubbed her temples. Letting her arms hang at her sides, Fynta sighed instead. "Let's find Dagger Wing and make sure we didn't just kill our objectives." Wouldn't Garza just _love_ that briefing?

**Maximum Security Pod J-P7**

Jorgan offered to watch the rear this time, so no one would see him limp. He was sure his knee would heal, but at the moment, he ground his teeth with every step. Which meant he only activated the comm when necessary to avoid drawing the women's attention. Living in such a tight knit group like Havoc meant someone would catch on to the fact that he was in pain eventually.

Sure enough, Jorgan's private line opened and it was a mild surprise to see it was Dorne instead of Fynta. "Sir," she began tentatively. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, thanks." Short, concise answers were the best Jorgan could manage at the moment.

Elara obviously wasn't fooled. She clucked her tongue in aggravation, and spoke in the harsher tones of the Havoc squad medic instead of his friend. "That's all well and good, sir, but your heart rate is erratic and your gate is six and a half centimeters shorter on your right side due to dragging your heel." Jorgan was momentarily speechless. It always baffled him how her brain could compute minutiae so quickly.

"I tweaked my knee, that's all," he finally admitted, and cringed at how old it made him feel. Havoc life was tougher on his body than sniper or Ops coordinator had been.

"Would you like me to examine it?"

"No, Dorne," Jorgan answered hastily. Thanks, but we've got to finish the job first. Besides, I heal quickly." The Cathar hoped reminding the medic of his rapid healing abilities would placate her, but when Elara didn't respond, Jorgan thought maybe he should consider every contingency. "Don't tell the major, okay? Not yet, at least."

Dorne remained silent for a few seconds. "Who do you think asked me to check on you?"

It shouldn't have surprised him. Even though Jorgan had been watching Fynta's POV up in the corner of his screen, it didn't mean she wasn't using the wrap around tech to monitor everyone in her squad. With a sigh, Jorgan opened a line to Fynta. "I'm fine, really."

"If you say so," she responded in a tone that could only be described as skeptical. "I have heart rate monitors too, you know."

That gave Jorgan an idea. He knew exactly how to steer Fynta's attention away from his aches and pains. Smiling to himself, Jorgan darkened his tone playfully. "Hmm. That might be fun to toy around with sometime."

"Don't try to distract me, Aric," Fynta scolded, but he could hear the smile. "Just don't do anything stupid. If it's going to cause problems, tell me." She paused briefly, then her tone softened, "Use the injector, cyare."

Jorgan wondered how many times he'd said the same thing to her and smiled to himself at the momentary role reversal. "Yes, sir."

"That's new," Vik said from his position on point. When Jorgan caught up to the rest of Havoc, they were standing in front of a pole attached to a swinging arm that rubbed against the rock walls that encircled it. Yellow electricity struck metal plates embedded in the floor with a loud crack. "So," Vik started again, propping his rifle on his shoulder, and looking down at Fynta. "Ladies first?"

"That would be you, right?" Fynta shot back as she climbed the stairs to the platform holding a panel attached to the arm's base. The major walked a slow circle around the device before stopping in front of the panel again. "Seems easy enough. There's just a down button." Before Jorgan could object, Fynta lifted her hand to hover her palm above the switch. "Wish me luck."

She smashed her hand down and a yellow bolt of lightning arced from the arm to her position. In a fraction of a second, Fynta was gone.

"Stang," Vik cursed.

Forgetting the pain in his knee, Jorgan took the stairs three at a time. Once at the top, he knelt to examine the floor where Fynta had just been. With his heart pounding, it was only his training that kept the Cathar from panicking.

"That was a rush," Fynta breathed over the comm. "It's somewhat disorienting, but I didn't leave anything behind as best I can tell. Come on through, everyone."

Jorgan hung his head in a mixture irritation and relief. Standing, he motioned the rest of the squad onto the platform and stood to the side while they each took a turn passing through whatever the hell this was. Cormac was stepping up to take his turn as Jorgan opened a private line to Fynta. "You've got to stop doing that to me."

"Then you should reevaluate your life choices, love," she teased in response. Jorgan rolled his eyes. It was moments like these that made Jorgan question whether he'd ever be fully prepared for Fynta Wolfe. Next time, Jorgan would suggest having Yuun examine the item before Fynta started pressing buttons. No doubt she'd complain.

Finally, Jorgan couldn't put off his turn any longer. Taking a deep breath, The Cathar shut his eyes and flattened his hand on the button to activate the machine. Bright light filtered through his eyelids. The next thing Jorgan knew, he was flung onto his hands and knees on a densely packed, dirt floor with his head spinning. Someone grabbed his shoulder plates and hauled him upright.

"Easy, soldier. Take a second to get your bearings," Fynta said quietly, stepping away and leaving Jorgan leaning forward with his hands braced against his knees.

Jorgan took a few deep breaths to quell the nausea before straightening to give his commanding officer a nod. "I'm good." However, the Cathar decided that if they came across another one of those, he was taking the long way.

**Maximum Security Section  
** **Convict's Wild**

Verin counted to twenty for the fourth time since they'd come through the portal. Skadge was still trailing him and Cinlat, and the Houk had already cost them a lot of time. Not to mention, Fynta's little demonstration of Republic power gave Barrows the window he needed to make his escape.

By the time Verin and Cinlat returned, the Houk had smashed Zale's astromech in a fit of rage. Now he wouldn't shut up about being tingly in unpleasant places. Verin's hand twitched to his blaster when he saw a flicker of movement, and the Skadge crumpled to his knees with Cinlat standing over him. She had one of her rippers pointed at the back of the Houk's head and Verin smiled.

"I love you, cyar'ika."

His wife's helmet turned towards him, and Verin was almost certain she smiled behind that faceplate. Then it shifted back towards her victim. "Look, Skadge. The only reason you're not dead yet is because you managed to procure those two to clear a path." Cinlat nodded at the two, large war droids that clunked along behind them. They had proven useful, so Verin suggested not shooting the Houk just yet. Cinlat had agreed grudgingly, claiming they might need the cannon fodder later anyway. "So shut you whining, or I'll put you down. Do we understand one another?"

Skadge glared at her through beady eyes, but eventually his many chins jiggled with a nod. Cinlat put her blaster away and continued down the corridor ahead of them, flanked by the droids, who had clearly marked her as the boss. The Houk scrambled to his feet and huffed beside Verin. "Got your hands full with that one."

Verin beamed with pride. "Yeah, she's great."

They were tracking Zale through the maximum security wing, which more resembled a vast underground temple, or maybe a catacomb, than a prison. Verin jogged up to Cinlat to ask what she had planned for Zale, when the two droids exploded behind them. The force threw both hunters onto their faces while Skadge dove for cover.

The Houk opened fire with a holdout blaster he'd scrounged off a corpse as Verin scrambled to his feet. Darting towards the corridor, he could pinpoint the attack's origin. All blaster fire stopped and for a moment, Verin thought Skadge had managed to be useful. Until he saw the creature land flat on his back and black and white beskar'gam stormed out of the shadows. Ah shab. "Hey Fyn-" His little sister balled up her fist and struck Verin across the faceplate.

"You were supposed to tell me when you're entered my area. You knew where I would be." Fynta had her hands on her hips while the rest of her squad filed into the passage, most of them with weapons trained on Skadge, which was fine with Verin.

Verin conceded. He'd been so wrapped up in his annoyance over losing Zale, and Skadge's continuous interference, that he'd completely forgotten to let Fynta know they were near. "Sorry, ner'vod. Got caught up in the chase."

Cinlat joined them, making a show of kicking the remainders of their droid escort around. She looked past Fynta and nodded to one of the bulkier members of the squad, activating her external speakers. "Vik, still being a good boy?"

The Weequay shifted slightly and Fynta looked over her shoulder, laughing. Verin wasn't sure what Vik said, but he didn't get the impression that the Weequay caused much trouble for the Havoc commander anymore. "He needs the occasional reminder, but he's come in handy too," Fynta answered before nudging a metal arm with the toe of her boot. "Sorry about the droids."

Verin opened his mouth to answer, but sudden shouting echoed down the corridor. cutting him short. It was Zale's voice, triggering the instinct to hunt. "Got to go."

Cinlat had a head start, dispensing with pleasantries in favor of reaching her target. Verin had nearly caught up with her before Skadge finally took the hint. He held the rifle loosely while they ran, and Cinlat drew her twin long barreled blasters. Havoc Squad was lost in the back of his mind as the two hunters burst into the control room of a secret landing pad. Zale had a group of men with him, about seven in all, and they had managed to back a squad of Imperial soldiers into a corner.

Zale Barrows cut his eyes at their entrance, but didn't divert his aim. "Look who finally turned up."

"Nowhere else to run, Zale. You're coming with me," Cinlat said, both blasters held at arm's length.

"Fine," Zale spat. "But not until I've finished my job. Do you really want the Imps releasing the scum of the universe on the rest of the galaxy?"

Cinlat shrugged, "I'm a bounty hunter. Tracking them down pays my bills."

Zale snorted. "I'll bet. Look-" the man turned to the side, presenting a smaller target. "Help me get rid of this scum, let my boys go, and I'll come quietly."

It had been a long couple of days, and Zale's plan sounded complicated. Without waiting for Cinlat's reaction, Verin aimed his wrist mounted carbonite sprayer and hit Zale full in the face.

Cinlat fired a bolt into the ground when Zale's men stepped forward. It didn't take much to convince them their odds were better taking the exit. Then the Imperial opened his mouth in praise and Verin groaned. "Beat it, or I might shoot you for kicks."

The officer balked, his face turning red, before sputtering his indignantly and storming off with the rest of his guard.

The two hunters stood admiring their prize when Skadge lumbered up, sulking because he didn't get to kill the man who'd put him here. Completing a job always made Verin feel a little generous. "You can carry him back," Verin offered. "I'll even look away if he bumps his head a few times, but if you kill him, you're taking his place."

**Beast Vault Z-26**

Fynta had seen her brother and Cinlat more times in the past year than she had in ten. Only one of them had been pleasant. She hoped the day never came when Cinlat and Verin grew so notorious that the Republic called on her squad to deal with them. Fynta knew she wouldn't kill him, though; you don't hurt family. Perhaps that would be the day when she took the Ba'slan shev'la.

"Sir!" Dorne knelt next to a man in Dagger Wing colors. "This man is dead. His esophagus has been crushed." The medic darted to the next prone figure, then the next. Dorne was on her third body by the time Fynta reached the first, cringing at the purplish indention on his throat and the odd angle at which the man's head was lying. It looked like a bad way to die.

"These are lightsaber wounds," Elara called. "Sir, there is a Sith on premises."

Fynta had yet to take on a Sith, and she hoped that beskar lived up to its reputation. "Tread carefully. We've all trained on neutralizing a force user. Yuun, Dorne, stay at a distance and focus on the Imperial soldiers. Vik, Cormac, you two are my heavy artillery guys. If it doesn't look like we can handle it, you blow the whole place. Got it?"

"Yes, sir!" Vik responded cheerfully; he even saluted. Fynta made a mental note to smack the mir'sheb if they survived.

Fynta motioned for the two groups to break off before turning to her XO. "Jorgan, find a spot to do your sharp shooting thing. I'm moving in. If you get a shot at the Sith, take it, but don't get too close." Fynta knew the Cathar wouldn't like her plan, but for once, he didn't argue.

Cormac was less enthusiastic. "We've got this, boss."

Raising her rifle, Fynta traversed the rest of the corridor looking down her scope. Her squad had their orders and she knew they would follow them. All Fynta had to do was to provide a good enough distraction.

She found the Sith and Commander Gall in a large, open room surrounded by the bodies of Dagger Wing. Fynta couldn't tell if they were dead, or merely injured. The Sith had four guards with him, commandos by the looks of them, and he held Gall by the throat. Except he wasn't touching the commander. His arm was outstretched and fingers curled as if choking someone, but Gall hovered with his toes inches off the floor, clawing at his throat.

Fynta had the Sith in her sights, falling back on training. She took a deep breath and counted her heartbeats. Her body felt completely weightless when Fynta squeezed the trigger, and she knew the shot was good. At least, until a bright red blade appeared from nowhere and casually batted the bolt away. Ondorru slowly turned his head and looked directly at her. Her blood ran cold when she met his red eyes.

Fynta was willing to bet that the Sith couldn't block all of her shots and keep his hold on Gall at the same time, so she advanced into the room firing on automatic. "Drop the guards now," Fynta ordered over the comms. Havoc Squad obeyed. Only one of the commandos was able to fire a shot back, and it missed Fynta by a few meters.

"Concentrate fire on the Sith, no explosives, and watch out for the commander." Fynta continued her advance while blaster bolts zipped passed her on all sides. The plan worked. Ondorru dropped Gall in an effort to block their shots with his lightsaber, backing towards the exit. Then he stumbled over one of the commandos, and looked down as if he'd just noticed his honor guard was dead.

Fynta knew they had him now, it was just a matter of not running out of ammunition first. Ondorru locked eyes with her, then the ground disappeared from under her feet. Fynta saw the Sith's outstretched hand just before she landed on her back nearly fifty meters away. The impact took her breath, and by the time she clambered to her feet again, the Sith was gone.

Commander Gall lay on one side, still clutching at his throat and gasping. Fynta ran to his side, and slid the last meter on her knees in her rush to assess the damage. Dorne appeared next to her, shouldering Fynta out of the way. She gave Elara room to work, addressing the rest of the squad. "Vik, Cormac, make sure this area is secured. Jorgan and Yuun, check for other survivors."

Watching Elara work on the commander, Fynta reflected on the fight. Her first run at a Sith hadn't gone so well. She needed to get together with Jorgan to implement drills on the best ways to take the shabbing darjetii down. Her personal comm chirped and Verin started speaking as soon as she answered.

_"Just saw a Sith run by and he seemed really pleased with himself. You're not dead are you?"_

"Not this time,' Fynta answered, looking down at Gall. "Where was he headed?"

"Shuttle. It took off as soon as he set foot on the ramp," Verin replied, then paused to shout obscenities at someone.

"Fierfek," Fynta spat. "Thanks, Verin."

Her brother closed the line without saying goodbye, a tradition in her family. Goodbye was too permanent. An unfinished conversation could be picked up again later.

Fynta knelt next to Gall, across from Dorne. "How is he?"

"Nearly stable," the medic responded before clucking her tongue. "Sir, please stop squirming, or I'll be forced to sedate you." Saying it that way, in that accent, had the same effect on everyone. Commander Gall went still.

"Sir, we have two survivors, but they are in bad shape," Jorgan reported.

Fynta bent to search Gall's pockets for his comm to contact his men for an evac. She dialed the last frequency used and sure enough, Adan answered. "That you, Commander?"

"It's Major Wolfe," Fynta responded, removing her helmet so the Cathar pilot could see her. Honestly, she had no idea how he folded himself into the cockpit of a starfighter when Jorgan barely fit into the backseat of a taxi. "Commander Gall is alive, but injured. We've got two other casualties as well. Get a few guys down here while my people cover the exits."

There was a long pause. "Everyone else is dead, aren't they?" Adan asked in a lowered voice that rumbled much like Jorgan's. The familiar sadness broke her heart.

"I'm sorry, Adan. But we need to save the ones we can."

"Yes, sir. I'll get on that at once." The Cathar closed the link, and Fynta sighed.

"Your men are on their way, sir," Fynta said, returning her attention to Gall, who was still lying motionless while Elara prodded around his throat gently. A deep rumble echoed off the walls, pulling Fynta's attention towards the far end of the room.

"What was that?" Jorgan asked as he approached, his rifle cradled in his arms. While assessing casualties, most of the squad had removed their helmets and were beginning to converge on the commander.

The bolted door at the end of the room shook. "Shab." This was a scenario Fynta and Jorgan were all too familiar with. Something heavy slammed into it again, bending inward at its center. "Helmets!"

As if on cue, the door flew off its hinges. Fynta dove to her left as it clattered past and a massive beast, something akin to a rancor, only much larger, stepped into the room. His roar shook the dust on the floor next to Fynta as she opened up with her blaster. Climbing back to her feet, she attempted to draw the creature's attention away from the others. Fynta knew exactly where her helmet was, laying on the floor next to Gall, and there was no-shabbing-way to get to it.

* * *

Covering her patient was Elara's first instinct. Commander Gall was still lying in the middle of the room, and Fynta was engaging the creature only a few meters away from them. Snapping her helmet on, Elara used her body as a shield. Vik, Cormac, Yuun, and Jorgan rushed forward to protect the Dagger Wing commanding officer. Elara took the opportunity to drag the man back towards the door to keep him out of the crossfire.

"Where is Fynta's helmet?" Jorgan growled. Elara glanced around. She remembered the major removing it to speak with Adan, but hadn't seen where she set it.

"I don't know," Elara answered, acutely aware her friend's proximity to the beast's feet.

Jorgan growled again, and started running just as the creature raised a massive fist above its head. The captain dipped his shoulder, ramming Fynta in the back, and they disappeared in the plume of dust stirred into the air when the fist hit the ground. Elara heard her own gasp over the open comms. "Jorgan! Are you alright?"

Yuun had fallen back to aid Dorne in protecting the commander, aiming precision bolts at the beast's skull repeatedly. Meanwhile, Balic and Vik continued pelting the creature with automatic fire. Seconds stretched out into an eternity before Balic cut in. "I see them. I think they're moving."

"We're alright," Jorgan answered with a grunt. Elara could just make out the commanders' silhouettes scrambling to their feet. He kept the major behind him, and started slowly backing away while Fynta fired over his shoulder, effectively pulling the creature's attention in a safer direction.

"Vik! Fire everything you've got!" Jorgan ordered. He and Fynta were taking five steps back to every step the creature took, and they were running out of room.

"If you say so," Vik replied.

Soon after, the beast, major, and the captain were shrouded in smoke as Vik launched the remainder of his vast arsenal. The floor shook, the vibrations carrying all the way up Elara's spine through her boots.

"Hold fire," Jorgan called out. When the smoke cleared, the two commanders huddled in a corner, Jorgan using his body to shield her. Elara saw the captain stand first, then pull Fynta up behind him.

The major spared a glance for the giant mound of flesh spilling liters of bodily fluids onto the floor. Then shook one of her boots, and jogged over to where Elara still leaned over Commander Gall. As if it were commonplace to be attacked by gigantic creatures. When Dorne thought about it, the same thing _had_ happened on Taris.

"Is he okay?" Fynta asked, kneeling by the commander again. Elara noted a few minor cuts on the other woman's face, but nothing too serious.

"I believe he'll make a complete recovery in due time, sir," Elara answered, while Gall stared at them through wide eyes.

"Major?"

Fynta and Elara turned as one to see a Kel'dor stride into the room. Elara could only assume this was Captain Zess. He stopped to gaze about at the carnage, then the fleshy brows above his goggles rose skyward when they landed on the creature. It took a few more seconds before he registered Havoc Squad.

"Gall, you made it!" Zess dropped to one knee, and clasped the commander's arm. He had a large group with him, including several exhausted looking medics. "They're here, men!" The Kel'dor waved his people in before returning his attention to Gall.

"You here to help me get these men back to base?" Fynta asked.

Zess nodded. "We are." He motioned to the men with a gurney before giving Gall a stern look. "You're a damn fool pursuing that Sith on your own."

Gall snorted a pained laugh and his voice rasped when he attempted to respond. "I'll stick to starfighters from now on."

Zess chuckled. "We'll get Gall and the others back to base and patched up, then have him transferred to the space station with the rest of Dagger Wing." Standing, the Kel'dor put his hands on his hips and looked at the creature again, shaking his head. "See you soon, Major."

As the new unit began working their way around the room, Fynta rocked back onto her heels, and sighed. The other members of Havoc Squad were slowly sinking to the floor and removing their helmets. Elara, on the other hand, pushed to her feet as she gazed at the massive animal; wondering if Fynta would allow her to study it before they left.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a
> 
> Fierfek [FIRE-fek] a Huttese slang word that meant "hex" or "curse," but was commonly accepted to mean "poison" by non-Huttese-speaking races. Later adopted as an expletive.
> 
> cyare [SHAH-ray] beloved, loved, popular
> 
> cyar'ika [shar-EE-kah] darling, sweetheart
> 
> shab - excrement (used as a curse)
> 
> ner'vod [nair - vohd] my, mine, sister
> 
> Ba'slan shev'la. - Strategic disappearance. Mandalorian Phrase.
> 
> beskar [BESK-gar] Mandalorian iron
> 
> mir'sheb [MEER-sheb] smartass
> 
> darjetii [dar-JAY-tee] Sith
> 
> Other Languages:
> 
> Stang: an expletive originating on Alderaan.


	27. Republic Citizen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter, more of a transition so we can start getting back into the fun stuff. As fascinating as Voss is as a planet, the trooper story lacked here, so I'll be skipping over the main missions and focusing on the highlights in the next chapter. We'll muddle through somehow. ;)

**Belsavis  
** **Republic Orbital Station**

Fynta's head hurt, and she was sure the entire right side of her face would be a continuous shade of purple soon. She'd smacked it against the ground when Aric tackled her, right before the floor vibrated beneath her. When she looked back, there was a substantial dent where she had been standing. Yuun had found Fynta's helmet later, it had been kicked away from the group in all the chaos. Still, it was stupid to walk off and leave it sitting on the ground. Her first instinct should have been to put it on, _then_ investigate the threatening noise.

When it was over, Jorgan had taken her face in his hands the same way he did every time Fynta suffered a head trauma, but it felt different. His relief was palpable. Of course, that didn't mean he wouldn't lecture her later. So, Fynta kept her helmet in her lap on the ride back to base. Maybe she could put it off if he couldn't contact her privately. Though there would be no escaping it once aboard the ship.

Three hours of paperwork later, adding an extra hour for Dorne's samples of the thing that attacked them, and it was time to face the music. It was only then that Fynta remembered Verin's request.

"Shab," Fynta complained. All eyes in Havoc turned towards her. "I forgot I was supposed to meet Verin."

"I wouldn't mind meeting the infamous bounty hunters myself," Vik added. "You know. Face to face." The Weequay balled his hand into a fist and grinned.

Jorgan looked less enthused about the prospect. Not that Fynta blamed him. She still needed to work out how her brother knew she would be here in the first place, and how much he knew about her relationship with the Cathar. _Shab. Cathar. That's why he's so mad._ Fynta hadn't even considered how her choice of lover might affect Cinlat. Before she could work out a reasonable excuse to blow the two hunters off, her comm chirped.

" _Not coming to see us off, vod'ika?"_

Fynta rolled her eyes at Cormac's stupid grin. He thought her family was fascinating. "Can we take a rain check, Verin? I've got a pile of paperwork to settle."

" _Fine, but we need to talk. Soon."_

The line went dead, and Vik chuckled. "Someone's in trouble."

Fynta remembered her earlier promise to smack him, deciding maybe a kick to the gett'se would be more appropriate.

**The Thunderclap**

The Havoc women were in odd moods. While Fynta sat in sullen silence, cleaning her gear at the conference room table, there was a tangible wave of anxiety rolling off Elara. Jorgan caught Cormac's eye and raised a questioning brow. The man shrugged, cutting his eyes to his wife, before beginning to reassemble his hand cannon.

"Something wrong, Dorne?" Jorgan finally asked, keeping his eyes on the datapad in his hands. He was almost finished with the final touches on their report to Garza. The Dagger Wing pilots were off the prison planet and headed home. Mission Successful.

Dorne frowned at her work. "I was just going over a research article I've been writing for the _Armed Forces Medical Science Journal_. I'm-well-I'm a bit nervous about it, actually. I've never had an article published in the Journal. It's quite prestigious."

"What did you decide to write about?" Fynta asked, making it obvious that this wasn't the first time this topic had come up, however new it might be to Jorgan.

Cormac glanced over the medic's shoulder, and raised his eyebrows at whatever was on the screen. Elara ignored him. "A simplified step-by-step process for rapidly assessing wounds and treatment options in combat situations. Just something I've developed during our various operations."

"Well, you've got the credentials," Jorgan snorted, casting an accusatory glance at Fynta. The major pointedly ignored him, putting extra effort into the piece of armor she was scrubbing.

"I may not hear back for some time. There's quite a bit of writing in the medical field at the moment. One of the side effects of wartime." Elara sighed. "I'll just have to wait and see."

"Heard anything else from Kalor?" Fynta asked without looking up, but her question pulled an annoyed growl from Cormac.

There was a hard set to Elara's jaw, and a look of forced determination in her eyes when she responded. "I'm not going to give Kalor the time to carry out his _investigation_ further." Dorne squared her shoulders. "I'm going to Coruscant. I was working up to requesting a leave of absence. He's attempting to exploit a loophole in investigative appeals process, subsection four, in order to reopen his inquiry without new cause."

Fynta set down the cleaning rag and narrowed her eyes. "I think it's time to introduce that scumbag to the roomier end of an airlock."

"Too right, boss," Cormac snorted.

"That won't be necessary," Dorne replied softly, but she couldn't hide her smile. "I have every message, report, and call recorded. It's time to demonstrate to Kalor's superiors exactly what his supposed _service_ to the Republic has accomplished."

"I'll come with you, Jorgan can hold down the fort until our next mission," Fynta offered.

"You're very kind to offer, sir. But I need to handle this myself. Bringing a war hero along would seem like a diversionary tactic."

Fynta reached across the table and put her hand over Dorne's. The contrast between her tan skin and Elara's paleness made more pronounced by the dark grime on Fynta's fingers. "Elara, you _are_ a war hero. You've saved my shebs more than once."

Not to mention, the medic had nearly gotten herself killed when she came back for Jorgan on the Gauntlet. That still bothered him, even though he knew there was nothing he could have done differently.

Dorne gave a tight lipped smile, "I appreciate that, sir."

Fynta leaned back and grabbed the rag again. "Alright. Take care of business. The shuttle is yours, but contact me if you need back up."

Cormac stood. "I'm going too." The man was already to the door before he stopped to look back at Fynta. "Of course, with your permission, Major."

Fynta gave an amused smirk and nodded her ascent. Jorgan wondered how he would handle it should Fynta ever come up against such odds. She couldn't shoot her way out of a political trap, though he wouldn't put it past the woman to try.

Elara heaved a sigh, and pushed away from the table as well. "I'll gather my things and depart at once. We'll return as quickly as possible."

Jorgan leaned back in his chair, hands folded over his stomach, and rocked it side to side while considering Fynta. Now that they were alone, maybe he could get some answers. "So, what's wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?" She pulled one leg up into the chair and hooked her foot behind the knee of the other. Fynta caught her lower lip between her teeth as she ran the oilcloth over the sharp edges of her vibroblabe.

He watched her work, skilled fingers tracing the blade without slicing into her skin. It showed an intimate awareness with the weapon. "You've been incredibly subdued since getting back," he finally answered, pulling his eyes to the tattoo on the side of her face. "Something you want to talk about?"

Fynta glanced over her shoulder with an expression of dread. "Honestly, I've been waiting for you to corner me about the helmet thing."

Jorgan nodded, a familiar fear knotting his gut again. His only thought had been _faster, go faster_ , as he ran towards her, knowing that if that creature landed the hit, Fynta wouldn't survive. When he finally made contact, Jorgan knew she would be okay, but up until that moment, it felt like he was running through syrup.

"It was foolish," he allowed, and saw Fynta's chin drop a fraction. Jorgan realized that nothing he could say would be any different from the mental thrashing she'd given herself over the last several hours. So, he settled for a discreet pat on her thigh before picking up his datapad. "I'm glad you're okay."

"That's it?"

Jorgan gave a small smile, and considered adding a kiss to show his sincerity, until movement caught his attention by the door. Vik ambled in, looking bored. His presence assaulting Jorgan's olfactory system with a putrid scent. The man constantly reeked of violence, lust, and arrogance, something Jorgan didn't know was possible until sharing a room with the Weequay. "Help you, Vik?" Jorgan bit off the words in a growl.

"The happy couple's just run off to Coruscant, and the bug's meditating again. So figured I'd see what the tops were doing," Vik answered, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

Fynta motioned to a chair, "We're working on reports and gear. You know, grown up stuff. You're welcome to sit, though." Neither Fynta nor Vik particularly liked each other, but she found his attitude refreshing, and Vik respected the major's willingness to get her hands dirty. So together, they made a decent team. It was a designation that Jorgan knew would never be applied to his own relationship with the Weequay.

Vik took the chair and leaned back, hands behind his head. "You people are dull. You'd think a squad like this would be hitting the cantinas between missions."

Jorgan went back to his reports and muttered, "You've been watching too many holovids."

Fynta smirked. "Admit it, you like it here."

Vik studied the major, and Jorgan focused on a single word in his report just to keep from throttling the guy. "All right, boss," Vik said suddenly. "You got me. Working together like we've been doing, it's a gold mine." He smiled, showing off a row of surprisingly straight teeth. "I guess if you're up to making this a long-term relationship, then count me in."

Jorgan's jaw dropped as he stared at the Weequay, but Fynta didn't miss a beat. "Is this some weird come-on, Vik?"

"Don't be dense," The Weequay feigned disgust. "You're not nearly trashy enough for me. Plus your people are ugly as Hutts." Fynta actually laughed that time. "Face it, there's not a mark in this galaxy that can handle the both of us." He gestured to Jorgan, "And I guess we can drag Fluffy along too."

"How thoughtful," Jorgan managed.

In some weird way that only the two of them understood, Tanno Vik had just thrown his lot in with Havoc Squad willingly. More specifically, with Fynta.

**Coruscant**   
**Senate Tower**   
**450 days after Ord Mantell**

Balic Cormac stood in the back of the room in full Alderaanian dress uniform. Technically, his transfer to the Republic army hadn't cleared yet, even if he'd spent over a year with Havoc Squad. There was a lot of political red tape to go through since Alderaan still hadn't chosen a side. He'd snuck into the courtroom after the hearing started so he didn't distract the defendant from her cause. And because he'd promised to stay at the barracks until Elara was finished. Actually, he'd promised to _try_ to stay at the barracks, which he had, briefly.

No one raised an eyebrow when Cormac and Elara arrived on Coruscant and requested a joint room on base. Elara kept a copy of Form 3578-K on her at all times to ensure they were never accused of fraternization. Granted, fraternizing had always been one of Cormac's gifts, but since meeting Elara Dorne, overly literal Imperial defector, the game had lost its appeal. He had eyes only for her now.

"As the council can see by the records provided by myself and the SIS, Agent Kalor's continued encroachment into the missions carried out by myself and, by extension, my squad, has cost millions of credits and yielded nothing by way of results." Elara's voice was strong as she delivered her evidence before the court.

Kalor, the man in question, who Cormac had seen a holo of once and had instantly hated, sat red-faced and fuming; well, as red-faced as a green skinned Mirialan could get. His wife was a smart woman and anyone who thought they could intimidate or outwit her hadn't done their homework.

The hearing went on for another hour as Elara had a detailed explanation, complete with physical evidence, for every question asked. After a brief deliberation, the duration of which she sat completely still, the council members returned and called everyone to order. It had taken every bit of self-control Balic had not to sit with his wife, especially seeing how nervous she was, but he couldn't risk calling any unwanted attention to her.

"After viewing the evidence, and hearing statements from character witnesses and government agents, it is the decision of this council to drop all investigatory charges against, and award full citizenship in the Galactic Republic, to Lieutenant Elara Dorne." The speaker knocked a marble ball against the desk. "Dismissed. And congratulations, Lieutenant."

Cormac thought his chest was going to explode with pride. Kalor stood up and walked over to Elara. Cormac started forward instinctively to get between his woman and someone he deemed a threat. She stood to meet the man who had made her life so difficult for the past four years with unwavering courage. Kalor extended a hand, and Elara took it without hesitation. Then they parted ways without looking back. A peaceful, if not frosty, conclusion.

Another man approached Elara, and slapped a hand on her back. He had an easy smile, one that Cormac instantly wanted to punch off his face. The man leaned in a little too close for Balic's comfort to whisper something. Elara nodded with a polite smile and the man strode off.

By the time Cormac reached his wife, she had busied herself with collecting her many datapads and holodiscs into neat piles. He stood just behind her, then leaned down to whisper, "Congratulations, doll."

Elara spun around with a shocked smile. "Balic!" Throwing her arms around his neck, she squeezed him tightly. "You were supposed to wait at the barracks."

Cormac kissed her forehead, ignoring the stolen glances around them. "You knew I'd sneak off post." Elara giggled and released him to finish gathering her things. Cormac nodded back towards the exit. "Who was the guy with the great hair?"

"Who? Oh, that was SIS agent Balkar. You've heard plenty about him, I'm sure." Well, at least now Cormac understood why Jorgan hated the guy so much. Balkar was way too suave for his own good.

Elara signed, and looked around the courtroom. "I'm a citizen, Balic."

Her smile melted away his annoyance, and Cormac slipped an arm around his wife. "How about dinner. Surely Havoc can live without us for one night."

Elara laughed, high and girlish. "Well, I am the medic, and we are talking about Fynta."

"Jorgan knows how to use the medbay," Cormac said with a grin while he steered his wife towards the exit. She didn't object to him pulling her close. "How about some room service instead, Mrs. Cormac?"

Elara gave him a look that made his blood boil and his heart race. "I think room service sounds delightful."

**The Thunderclap**

Elara and Balic arrived not long after the briefing with Garza. Havoc was headed to Voss next, a place Jorgan had never been; but had heard was beautiful. Fynta smiled and bounced eagerly on her toes as soon as the airlock opened to Elara's beaming expression.

"Sir." As usual, Dorne presented with perfect posture. "I am ordered to report that I, Elara Dorne, personnel number 22-795, am no longer classified as a person of concern. The Personnel Division of the Army of the Galactic Republic has declared that I am to be treated as a fully protected legal citizen, effective immediately."

Fynta grinned and clapped the woman on the shoulder. "You beat him, Elara! You're free!"

"That she is, sir." Cormac added. "You should've been there."

"Kalor never saw it coming," Dorne continued as they traveled through the ship. "When I exercised my right under service code one to an immediate personnel hearing, he was literally speechless. I demonstrated documentation for every moment of his pointless investigation. Once the man hours and expenditures were totaled, it came to thousands of credits wasted in wartime."

Fynta leaned against the doorframe of the medbay while Cormac plopped their bags on the bed. "I assume Kalor won't be working for Personnel Division anymore?"

Dorne, ever literal, looked up from what she was doing. "I'm not privy to his employment status, but I suspect you're right." Jorgan smirked. Dorne went still and looked around the room, taking it all in. "I still can't believe this day has finally come. The suspicion, the reservations, the endless questions . . . they've been a part of my life for so long. But no more. I am a citizen of the Galactic Republic."

"It's great to see this happening for you," Jorgan said, then realized he'd never asked about Fynta's citizenship, though he imagined it didn't matter anymore.

"Thank you so much. Both of you." Dorne looked from one to the other. "I've never felt prouder to be serving the Republic. Do we have a new mission yet? I want to get back to doing my part."

"As it happens," Fynta said, pushing off from the wall. "We are headed to Voss."

Elara touched her finger to her lips in thought. "Voss. That name sounds familiar. I'll need to do some research." Then Dorne smiled again. "Aren't we a sight? An ex-Imperial, a captain in the Alderaan Military, a Cathar, and a Mandalorian."

"A _Republic citizen_ , a Captain of Alderaan, a Cathar, and a Mandalorian," Jorgan corrected. Regardless of her loyalty to the Republic, Fynta never stopped being Mando'ade.

"Yes," Dorne said. "A Republic citizen."

**Voss**  
**City of Voss-Ka**  
 **466 Days since Ord Mantell**

Fynta had never seen a world like Voss. It was as vivid as they came. The leaves were dark reds and vibrant yellows. The sky was orange; the grass golden. There were so many variations of the shades of those three colors that she couldn't begin to identify them all. Jorgan had attempted to describe colors he could see that Fynta couldn't, but the awe in his voice made her grin.

Then, the whole experience was ruined by that shabuir of a senator, Evran. The man represented everything Fynta hated about politicians. False pretenses, over-inflated egos, and that insistent need to make sure everyone knew he was in charge, even if he was completely out of his depth. Their contact here was a shabbing joke who thought he could manipulate the politics of a completely neutral world. Senator Evran currently had an entire squadron tied up on this planet serving as his personal security blanket and Garza wanted the Eighty-first infantry back on the front lines for their assault on Rakton.

The general claimed Voss contained mystics that could predict the future flawlessly, yet they remained stubbornly neutral. Fynta's vote was to pull out, let the Voss handle their own business, and move on to a world who actually cared. Besides, independence was working out fine for Manda'yaim, mostly.

Fynta stormed out of the office, Jorgan muttering behind her, to find Cormac leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, while Dorne sat on the couch studying her datapad. Vik was asleep, head leaned back against the wall, and Yuun was still staring at the same painting he had been before she and Jorgan went in to meet their host. Jorgan wandered over to see what was so impressive. It was a simple, blue painting as far as Fynta could tell. The artist had streaked various shades of blues at different angles. It reminded her of a child's painting, but the Gand seemed fixated on it.

"Up and at'em people," Fynta said, smacking Vik on the back of the head. He grumbled and got to his feet, rubbing the point of impact.

"What do we have, Boss?" Cormac asked, pushing off the wall.

"Major?" A young woman approached gingerly before Fynta could stick her boot in her mouth complaining. "I uh, the Senator asked me to show you to your accommodations. He said he understands that this may take some time, and wishes to extend his hospitality." The woman had red hair pulled back into a tight bun and wore large, square glasses, not a common sight in this galaxy. "He said to provide three rooms, each with two beds and a refresher." She held out the keys with a shaky hand.

"Thank you, ma'am," Fynta took the keys with a polite nod. There was no need to vent her frustrations on Evran's aid.

The woman nodded, wringing her hands. "Directions to you rooms are embedded, just insert them into your datapad." Then she retreated, seemingly relieved to have survived the encounter. It made Fynta wonder what kind of stories these people had heard about Havoc. The major waited for the woman to leave, then handed out keys.

"Dorne and I in one room, Jorgan and Cormac, Yuun and Vik."

"Why do I get stuck with the bug?" Vik complained, snatching the key that Yuun was reaching for.

"I'm hoping if you work together enough, maybe he'll rub off on you," Fynta answered with a raised eyebrow.

"Yuun is happy to share space with any sentient being. It is all a part of the pattern that weaves our lives together," the Gand answered.

Vik blinked at Yuun, then looked at Fynta. "You really see that happening?"

"Okay, so far Yuun is the only one who hasn't threatened to kill you in your sleep," Fynta tried again as they walked towards the door.

Vik fell in beside Fynta, purposefully taking smaller steps to make sure he didn't outpace her. "Dorne hasn't threatened me yet. She likes me," the Weequay threw a wink over his shoulder at the medic.

"Not true," Dorne interjected. "I threatened to withhold medical services, which would most likely result in your death."

Vik roared with laughter. "True that, sweetheart."He shoved the key into his pocket. "Alright, I'll room with the bug."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> vod'ika [vohd-EE-kah] little sister
> 
> gett'se [GET-say] nuts
> 
> shebs [shebs] backside, rear, buttocks
> 
> Mando'ade [Mando-AH-day] Mandalorians (pl) - sons and/ or daughters of Mandalore
> 
> shabuir [SHAH-boo-EER] extreme insult - jerk, but much stronger
> 
> Manda'yaim [MAN-dah-YAI-eem] the planet Mandalore.


	28. "Shabbing Mystics"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to the holiday, and the fact that I'll be introducing a new character, the next chapter might be delayed slightly.

 

**The Old Paths**  
**Lower Flamewood**  
 **469 Days since Ord Mantell**

SIS agent Kellor stood in miniature on Fynta's holocommunicator, considering his datapad, while relating the intel gleaned from the terminal the major had just finished slicing. "Hm, looks like schematics to a bomb, a big one." The man paused, rubbing his chin, one of the few areas that wasn't modified. Kellor was hard to look at, being so teched out that it was nearly impossible to distinguish a human face. "Oh, this looks Republic."

A cold weight settled in Jorgan's stomach. "Kellor, if the bomb is a ZR-57, you can track it by its radiation signature," The Cathar added over Fynta's shoulder. Everyone was pointedly ignoring the body of the dead assassin on the floor. The man, code named _Deadfall,_ had made infiltration difficult. It had been a hard fought battle to get into this Imperial hideout, and Havoc squad was exhausted.

"Good thinking," Kellor replied.

Deadfall had been responsible for getting in and taking out high value targets, something that Jorgan was almost certain was a distraction to hide the Empire's more nefarious plans. It was all speculation, of course, and Senator Evran wasn't pleased with the target's lack of vital signs. The man paced in the background, muttering about Fynta's incompetence, while Kellor did an impressive job of ignoring him.

"I'll get scanning equipment out to the team. In the meantime, head back and get some rest." This particular SIS agent seemed like a decent guy, which Jorgan wasn't sure how to reconcile with his overall distrust with the agency. Granted, he hadn't made a single pass at either Fynta or Elara, which already placed him higher on the professionalism scale than Balkar.

"One moment, Major," Evran interrupted, reappearing on the small holo device. "I need you back at my office. An important diplomatic meeting is coming up, and Havoc Squad would make an excellent honor guard."

Jorgan barely repressed the snarl building in his throat, and Cormac started coughing as if he'd swallowed wrong. Honor guard was insulting. Fynta balked visibly, pulling her brows together when she answered. "We're needed in the field, Senator. This is a serious threat."

"We don't even know where to start looking," Evran protested. "Besides, this is too, it involves a _Sith_." The man's tone made it obvious that no was not an option.

Jorgan saw Fynta's brow twitch higher at the mention of a Sith. She'd been itching to get another shot at one since their failure to take down Ondurro on Belsavis. The Cathar was still busy watching her when Kellor responded. "As soon as we have anything, Major, you'll be the first to know."

Fynta's hand tightened into a fist as she growled her next words at the men on the holo. "Do you need the entire squad?"

"One or two should work fine. Don't keep me waiting." Evran cut the transmission, and Jorgan got the impression Fynta was trying hard not to punch something.

**Voss-Ka  
** **Guesthouse**

Fynta stomped into the guest house muttering about the state of her gear. She looked down and saw red, realizing she was thoroughly coated in the Imperial officer's blood. Sighing, she shut her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose. They'd played honor guard for Evran, went on his shabbing charity mission, and gotten that group of Voss commandos out of danger. Turns out the whole ordeal was some sort of test set up by their _Mystics_. Havoc squad had arrived on the scene only to find that the Imps had sent people too, also looking to win favor with the world indigenous and stubbornly neutral people. However, those soldiers hadn't just been there to rescue the Voss commandos, but to remove Havoc squad from the picture as a bonus.

The ambush hadn't taken long to handle, Jorgan had stepped forward to take out two of the Imperial soldiers before they so much as managed to raise their weapons. Fynta had lunged at the officer, her momentum taking him by surprise, and they both fell. Her armor protected her from his blaster, but his uniform had been no match for her vibroblade. Killing a man up close in armor was one thing, everything was contained within the shell for the first few seconds. However, a man in normal clothes, or even lightweight armor, made a hell of a mess.

Fynta had caught him under the ribs, saw his eyes widen with the realization that he'd lost, then, when they'd landed, her weight drove the blade deeper into his gut. The officer had struggled feebly against her bulk for a moment, before growing too weak to more than whimper. Fynta watched the light leave his eyes, along with the fear and pain, until he was simply staring into nothingness.

To make matters worse, the Voss commandos had simply looked at her squad and said she'd, _arrived as predicted_. Havoc Squad had balked as the alien soldiers marched passed them as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"Shabbing Force users," Fynta grumbled under her breath. This whole planet was full of them, and they all acted with the same piousness as the Jedi, and arrogance of the Sith.

Heavy hands rested on Fynta's shoulders, steering the woman towards her room. "Come on, time for some sleep."

The major allowed Jorgan to guide her, until she realized she was heading in the wrong direction. Stopping suddenly, Fynta looked over her shoulder. "I think I'll sleep better across the hall."

Jorgan frowned, indecision warring with duty. At least, until he realized that the door to Fynta and Elara's room was shut and locked. Grinning up at the Cathar, Fynta silently thanked Cormac for taking the choice out of Aric's hand. She patted the Jorgan's still gloved hand while he stared at the opposite door. "Come on, cyare, let's get some sleep."

* * *

Over the next several nights, Fynta and Cormac would trade places many times. She would slip into Jorgan's bed to find him waiting, unable to fall asleep until he felt her warmth against him. For the first time, Aric considered that maybe civilian life wouldn't be so bad. Although, the thought of Fynta waiting idly at home for him to return from work was almost comical, so he pushed it from his mind and held her tighter.

It was on the fifth night that Havoc's lull in activity finally came to an end. Fynta had her head pillowed on Jorgan's chest, with an arm and leg thrown across his body. The chirping of a holo woke him, and he reached over to answer out of habit before realizing it was hers.

"Fynta," he whispered, shaking his arm gently.

"Hm?" She snuggled in closer, and tightened her grip around him. Jorgan hated to wake her.

"Fynta, the comm."

"Fierfek." She sat up and reached across the bed, her hair brushing his face. "Wolfe," Fynta answered with only audio. Jorgan pushed her hair out of the way, and she grinned. She was close enough to kiss, staring down at him with dark eyes that always seemed to glitter with life.

" _Major, this is Senator Evran. We have a serious problem."_

All the playfulness vanished as a look passed between Fynta and Jorgan, one that said it was time to get back to work. Fynta rolled off the bed to gather her clothes, while Evran continued on. Jorgan watched her for a couple of minutes before finding his own, still tangled in the sheets.

" _Agent Kellor's team discovered where the Empire was hiding the bomb, but not before being spotted by Imperial security. The team's speeder was damaged during their escape."_

"Do we have a location?" Fynta asked, pulling her shirt over her head. "Why didn't he call me?"

Jorgan pulled on his pants and sent a text only message to Cormac. _Time to get up. Got a call from Evran. Need to mobilize._ He pressed send, and hoped the message got the big guy moving before they had to wake Yuun and Vik.

"They've crash-landed in the Dark Heart, part of the Nightmare Lands," the Senator continued. "You have to get there right away!"

Fynta pulled on her boots, and checked to make sure Jorgan was out of range before activating the holo to greet the man face to face. "We'll move out immediately."

The door opened to their room, and Cormac stuck his head in. Fynta turned away from him and crossed to the desk while the big man bent low and scuttled crab-like to his side of the room.

"Go as fast as you can, Major. There isn't a moment to lose," the Senator reminded Fynta from the background, then the link was gone.

The major turned back to her men. "Nightmare Lands, huh? These Voss like their dramatic nuances." Fynta spared a smile for Cormac. He was still crouched, trying to stay out of the holo's line of sight. "I'll wake Vik and Yuun while you boys make yourselves presentable."

Cormac gave an indignant snort as Fynta passed him. She paused to give Jorgan a quick kiss before exiting the room. The casualness of it was comforting, until the Cathar noted the barely contained amusement on his roommate's face.

"Not a word," Jorgan warned.

Cormac straightened, attached his greaves, and refused to meet Jorgan's eyes. "At least tell me if she snores, mate."

"Nope," Jorgan said with some satisfaction. "Our women are too efficient to snore."

Cormac chuckled while shaking his head. "Too bloody right."

**Nightmare Lands**   
**The Dark Heart**   
**Shadowed Cave**

"He's gone, isn't he?" It was Senator Evran, and he sounded subdued for a change. "The whole team, gone. They were only supposed to observe. How did this happen?"

Fynta wondered the same thing. She tried not to blame the dead man at her feet, but Kellor was supposed to call Havoc squad as soon as he had anything. That should have included a possible location. Kellor's team weren't geared enough to take on a secret Imperial base, even if it was a figurative one. Now they were all dead.

"We have the Imps' location, Senator, it's time to strike," Fynta replied, redirecting Evran's attention to the task at hand. Kellor had used his dying breath to deliver this information. Fynta glanced at Jorgan, who was still trying to clean the SIS agent's blood off his armor. The man had died in the Cathar's arms, his final request was that they told his men's families that they died as heroes, not raving lunatics. For once, Fynta was starting to believe the rumors. There was something wrong with this place.

"You're right, you're . . . yes. You're right." Fynta wondered if this was the first time the Senator had lost people.

Cormac jogged up and handed Jorgan the ID tags that he'd collected from the deceased SIS team; it was unlikely that anyone would venture this far into the Nightmare Lands to retrieve the bodies. His helmet turned towards the holo when Evran continued in a stronger voice. "I want you to go to those coordinates, Major. I want you to make the Imperials pay. Use all necessary force. Evran out."

Closing the panel on her glove that hid the miniature holo, Fynta looked at the two commandos she had with her, both skilled and formidable, and hoped they would be enough to take on an Imperial outpost. She had been forced to send half her squad on an escort mission back to the nearest base when they encountered civilians wandering around in a daze. Those that the Voss called The Corrupted. The people were out of their minds, and couldn't be left to their own devices.

While Dorne, Yuun, and Vik took the civilians home; Jorgan, Cormac, and she had continued on with a ritual that the locals claimed would keep them sane. The entire list of requirements had coalesced at a big, normal looking rock with ancient carvings all over it. After sharing a glance, the three commandos had inserted the crystals they'd collected into the slots that pitted the stone. Then, they'd sat there, until Jorgan finally stood up and declared he felt perfectly sane, and there wasn't much time left. Fynta and Cormac had agreed.

It had all sounded like a bunch of superstitious nonsense, but now. . . .

Sparing one last look at Agent Kellor's body, Fynta held out her hand for the man's tags, tucking them safely in the pouch on her belt. "Looks like they didn't get far," she said, pulling up the data from the chip Kellor had passed them. Fynta steeled herself, and swore all her men would get home today. "Let's move out."

**The Old Paths  
** **Ken-La Outpost**

"Shall we rendezvous, sir?" Dorne stood just outside the entrance of the outpost, staring down at the major's image in the palm of her hand. The trip back had been slow and arduous. She'd had to give Vik a direct order not to shoot the woman who wouldn't stop weeping. It was a secret pleasure that he obeyed, one she tried not to indulge in. It meant that somehow, without bloodying his nose, Elara had earned a little respect.

Yuun had spent the entire time making reassuring clicking noises, nothing she recognized as intelligible speech, to sooth the screaming man. Meanwhile, Elara had been tasked with keeping the dazed, muttering civilian on track. He'd kept trying to wander off in the direction of anything remotely dangerous. Drop offs, Vorantiki, even her firearm. It had been quite a job to keep him from ending his life on the journey back.

Now that they were delivered to the outpost, Elara wanted to rejoin her team. Jorgan was a proficient triage medic, but he lacked the skill to treat serious wounds effectively, even if she had left half her supplies with him, just in case. "Negative, there isn't time, and I don't want you guys crossing through here again. You didn't complete the ritual," Fynta answered.

"So, we believe in the ritual now?" There was a pause. Elara wasn't being snarky, she was curious.

"Agent Kellor was SIS. They are conditioned against torture and mind control. Not to mention, he had a head full of implants that should have protected him. Now, he and his men are dead." Fynta left the rest unsaid. Kellor's team went insane, killing one another in the process, and the three Havoc commandos hadn't, and so there must be something to all this mysticism.

"Understood, sir."

"Stay there in case we take casualties," Fynta said. "Do not come after us if we don't make it. Find a way to deactivate that bomb. Understand, Lieutenant?" Fynta didn't say leftenant, which is what the major normally called her in jest. Meaning she wanted Elara to know how deadly serious she was this time.

"Yes, sir. Be careful. I'll monitor you from here." There wasn't much else to do. Vik and Yuun had wandered off somewhere, but Elara trusted them to keep out of trouble. Normally, she would take the opportunity to observe the Voss, and learn more about their culture, but she found the deep set need to watch her friends instead. In all the galaxy, those three were the people she cared for the most. It seemed wrong to be here, relatively safe, while they entered the unknown without proper medical assistance.

Fynta nodded before cutting the line, leaving Elara to stare at her empty palm. "Please be careful," she whispered again.

**Imperial Drilling Operation**

Cormac had to hand it to the major, when she was set on a result, the woman was an unstoppable force. Fynta set a grueling pace, which was fine for a spry little thing like herself, but he was a big man in a lot of kit. Not to mention a few years her senior. He was pretty sure Jorgan was feeling it a too. Cormac hoped so, at least.

While Cormac had never mastered Jorgan and Fynta's run and gun accuracy, he was really good at opening doors the fun way. They stood guard while he attached strips of detonite to the weak points of the entrance. The whole process took less than a minute, then they were taking cover to blow the charges. The heavy, metal door fell forward, smoking around the edges.

Fynta didn't waste time admiring Cormac's work for a change. She lifted her weapon, and charged through the new opening. The major seemed to be taking Agent Kellor's death personally. So, the three of them worked through the underground complex quickly, and in complete silence. Sure enough, they found the Imps standing in front of a massive bomb. Closer examination showed that it was wired into the cave walls itself, with a big Sith lord, the same pureblood from the meeting with the Senator at that, guarding it.

"Ah, Major, I rather suspected our paths might cross again, though not like this," Lord Torius said in an almost chummy sort of way. "I must give Senator Evran credit. Sending you here was a bolder move than I expected from him." The Sith crossed his arms and smiled as Fynta edged closer, motioning for Cormac and Jorgan to stay back.

The major's finger twitched on the trigger. Cormac suspected she was itching to shoot the guy before he had a chance to draw his lightsaber, but that might upset the Voss, and she had promised to play their political game. He didn't envy her the position of having to make that call.

"Evran authorized all necessary force, so don't try anything," she answered calmly.

Torius chuckled. "What Evran authorizes is no concern of mine, and I have it on good authority that you're undermanned, _Major_. Don't you think it's odd that you're the only one trying to stop me? That the Voss haven't foreseen everything, as they supposedly can?" The red skinned Sith was a special kind of arrogant, gloating prematurely over his success. "With this weapon buried beneath their capital, the Voss will have no choice but to submit." He turned his back on Havoc, demonstrating how little he felt threatened by their presence. "Clearly their abilities were no match for the power of the Dark Side."

Cormac knew the major's opinion on the Force. It was fine for those who could commune with mysterious beyond, but she didn't have any use for it, or its superstitions. He guessed Fynta felt the same about the Voss's mystics. Fynta was a practical woman, proving as much when she raised her weapon a little higher. "I won't let you hold this planet hostage, Torius."

The Sith turned back towards Fynta, still with a good humored expression. "The people of Voss already belong to the Empire, they just don't know it yet. Every detail of the operation was chosen at random from dozens of fully developed alternatives. With all possibilities equal, no single plot was foreseen. This operation has been a masterpiece of ingenuity, one that you have no place in." Torius motioned to the two robed men with him and nodded. "Guards, remove this filth."

Cormac and Jorgan stepped up on either side of Fynta when the apprentices blocked their path. Cormac had never seen a Sith in action, other than in the holovids, but he was pretty sure he knew the look of them. The men were in their early thirties, probably, and they appeared identical. Cormac wasn't sure if they were twins, or if it was some trick, but all doubts about them being Sith vanished when the hum of lightsabers filled the abnormally quiet cave. He was momentarily mesmerized by the red light that seemed to spring from their hands.

Fynta was less impressed. Leaning around the two men, the boss managed to level the Sith lord with a stare even through her helmet. "You're going to need more guards, Torius."

Cormac couldn't resist his smile even as Jorgan groaned. Their commander had never mastered the fine art of reigning in her insolence. The Cathar muttered something that sounded suspiciously like _keep your mouth shut_. Fynta ignored him.

Without waiting for the command, Jorgan opened fire. His target batted the bolt away casually, so Cormac joined in on full auto. That gave the two men pause, each taking a step back, lightsabers spinning in a red blurs. The onslaught was too much, and a single bolt got through, hitting the man in the gut. Cormac saw shock flit through the man's eyes as he crumpled. He went down, not quite dead, but not strong enough to continue the fight either. Fynta removed the threat with a shot to the head.

The second was pressing Jorgan into a corner, working his way steadily closer as the Cathar fired round after round into the blade that the Sith used as a shield. "A little help?" He called out as his back touched the wall.

Fynta was running before Cormac turned around. She took a flying leap, and caught the apprentice off guard, jamming her vibroblade down into the back of his neck. The Sith clawed at the back of his shirt as the black robes turned darker. His lightsaber clattered to the floor and deactivated. For the second time since arriving on the planet, the major was covered in someone else's blood.

Cormac could hear both Jorgan and Fynta breathing heavily, but it might have been him too. The three commandos rounded on the Pureblood, who watched with an arched eyebrow of disappointment.

"Fine," Lord Torius said, focusing his attention on the soldiers instead of his fallen apprentices. He ignited his own saber, and held the shimmering red beam towards Fynta. "I'll do it myself."

Fynta didn't give the Sith a chance to strike. She lunged forward, snatching up the discarded lightsaber. Cormac didn't even know she knew how to turn the bloody thing on, much less fight with it. Her sudden attack took the Sith lord by surprise, and he only narrowly blocked the blow. Unfortunately, her momentum was soon lost. Torius was trained with these weapons, while Fynta swung it inexpertly.

Cormac couldn't get a clear shot, but kept his finger on the trigger. Jorgan was staring down his scope, completely motionless, waiting for his own shot. Torius was driving Fynta back, raining blow after blow that she was just managing to block, but Cormac wasn't sure for how much longer.

"We need to do something," he said to Jorgan.

The Cathar growled, an actual, animal-like growl, one that made Cormac want to take step back. "I need a shot."

Torius threw his hand out, and Fynta was hurled backwards before being yanked through the air towards the Sith again. Cormac's heart skipped a beat as he watched Torius spin in a circle, bringing the glowing blade down across her shoulder in a rain of sparks. Fynta cried out.

The crisp sound of Jorgan's sniper rifle filled the room as the Cathar steadily closed the gap between them. Then, it was shattered by the overwhelming bass of Cormac's hand cannon. Torius spun towards them in a dramatic display of flailing robes, throwing both hands out. Cormac felt weightless, until he hit the wall behind him, slamming the air from his lungs. _So that's a Force attack._ He made a mental note to avoid those in the future.

Balic sat on the floor, dazed, yet aware of his surroundings. Jorgan lay sprawled a few meters away, just beginning to roll onto his hands and knees. That was the moment Cormac realized they weren't dead.

Jorgan groaned and shook his head, still kneeling, then his helmet snapped up. "Fynta?"

Cormac pushed to his feet, and stumbled towards where the bulk of the Sith lord lay in the dirt, wondering when they'd managed to hit him. "She's alive, I've got a heartbeat," Elara intoned breathlessly, nearly giving Cormac a heart attack. He'd forgotten that she was watching the whole show. Elara was a good soldier, keeping quiet to avoid distracting them when she didn't have any helpful advice.

"Boss?" Cormac eased up to the Sith, weapon ready. There was a hole in his chest, and a boot sticking out from under him.

Jorgan rushed past, grabbing the Pureblood's shoulders. "Give me a hand, Cormac."

Together, the men heaved Torius off the major. She moaned, and rolled onto her back. Cormac heaved a sigh of relief as Jorgan knelt down and removed her helmet, cradling her neck in his hand.

"You alright, boss?" Cormac asked. Fynta should be cut in half, but apart from a nasty looking bruise working its way up her neck, she looked okay.

Jorgan helped her sit up and removed his own helmet. He started down a list of medical checks, his expression carefully trained neutrality, even though Elara commented privately on the Cathar's accelerated heart rate. Cormac didn't blame the man. His own heart hadn't quite slowed down completely either, and that wasn't even his girl.

"I'm fine." Fynta pushed Jorgan's hands away from her face gently, and cracked her neck. "Looks like the armor works."

The Cathar sat back on his heels and stared at her wordlessly. Fynta stared right back, and Cormac felt like he was intruding on some unspoken conversation, so, he walked off to give them privacy. Suddenly, his knees didn't feel like they could hold him anymore and Balic sank to the metal ramp. Pulling out his holo so he could see his wife's face, Cormac dialed Elara. She answered on the second ring and he smiled.

"Hey doll, we just took out a Sith Lord."

**Voss-Ka  
** **Alien Enclave**

Jorgan rethought his priorities the entire way back. It wasn't the first time Fynta had done something reckless. Granted, she always seemed to beat the odds, but now he felt more invested. He wondered if all this fear and panic was worth it, or if they should call an end to this relationship before one of them did something the other would regret. However, the prospect of ending things brought on a new kind of dread. Aric was sure he loved her, and couldn't imagine going back to the cranky, lonely man he had been.

These quandaries plagued the Cathar right up to Evran's door, where they were greeted by an overly friendly, if slightly sloshed, senator. "Ah, Major. Come in, and have a drink with me. You did some truly fine work here on Voss. Not even Torius could stop you!"

Fynta clasped her hands behind her back. A bruise had worked its way up to her neck, and Jorgan could see her working the stiffness from her jaw. "I'm just glad everything worked out, did these events swing the Voss towards the Republic?"

Evran offered Fynta a glass of wine, which she politely refused. He put it back on the table with a sigh. "Unbelievably, even after everything the Empire did, the Voss still refuse to take a side."

Fynta glanced at Jorgan before answering. "I'm sure you'll persuade them eventually." It was clear by her polite answers that she was doing her best to avoid another long winded speech so that Havoc could finish up and get back to the ship.

The Senator swished the contents of his own glass as he eased into a chair. "We can only hope. In any event, you've done your part." He considered her in silence for a moment, chin in hand while his elbow was propped in the other. "Would you like to have a seat?"

"I appreciate it, but I'm dead on my feet right now. If I sit, I'll probably fall asleep, and that would be rude," Fynta answered.

Jorgan didn't like the way the man was eyeing her, yet she didn't shift under the weight of the senator's' gaze. Evran continued on, undaunted by her continuous rebuffs. "You're one of the finest representations of the Republic I've ever met. A shining example of what a woman should be too."

Jorgan felt his eyebrows raise despite himself. Was this man hitting on her? If so, he didn't have a clue who he was dealing with.

"I would regret it if I didn't ask, Major Wolfe, are you single?" Evran didn't sound the least bit uncomfortable about asking such personal questions with Jorgan in the room. To his surprise, the Cathar wasn't even annoyed. If anything, he was . . . entertained.

"I'm afraid not, Senator," Fynta answered in a cordial manner.

"A husband?" He countered, and Jorgan was no longer amused. As if her commitment should be less without a legal document to bind them.

"Of sorts," Fynta responded, her tone a little more stern this time. Suddenly, that woman was Jorgan's sole focus. Hearing those words of commitment triggered a possessive need in the Cathar. To make sure everyone knew once and for all that she was his. It was clear that there could only be one outcome for them, damn the risks. Again, that realization lifted a weight from Jorgan's shoulders.

Evran sighed. "All the good ones are taken, of course. He's a lucky man, Major." He shifted quickly into his all business persona. "With the threat neutralized, the troops are yours, and don't hesitate to contact me if I can do more. You have my personal comm, should anything change in the future."

"The Eighty-first infantry will make a big difference in the war, Senator Evran," Fynta said, offering her hand in a friendly farewell.

The senator caught it, kissing the back in an act that was probably meant to be dashing. Jorgan wondered if the man realized that glove had been recently covered in blood. "You take care out there, Major."

Jorgan escorted Fynta from the office, doing his best to keep his expression blank. They walked in silence until they were well away from the building. Pulling a piece of cloth out of his pocket, Jorgan held it out to Fynta. "Thought you might like to wash the spit off." He kept his eyes straight, knowing that if he saw the expression on her face, he'd be lost to an unprofessional bout of laughter.

"Har, har, har," Fynta replied, snatching the cloth, and wiping her gauntlet. "Who kisses a shabbing glove?"

This time, Jorgan smiled openly, aware that showing his teeth gave him a feral appearance. "A very lonely man."

Fynta cut her eyes up at him and lowered her voice, "So, what does that make you?"

Turning his head slightly to meet her gaze as they walked towards the spaceport, Jorgan softened his tone. "A very _lucky_ man." He stopped, grabbing Fynta's arm while they were still shielded from the public eye, and cupped her chin in his hand. The discoloration was spreading rapidly, and the way she kept popping her jaw concerned him. Turning her head to the side, Jorgan frowned. "Let's get you back to the ship and have that looked at."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> cyare [SHAH-ray] beloved, loved, popular
> 
> Fierfek [FIRE-fek] a Huttese slang word that meant "hex" or "curse," but was commonly accepted to mean "poison" by non-Huttese-speaking races. Later adopted as an expletive.


	29. Consequences Be Damned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets an M rating, even though it's not all that bad. Hope you enjoy, I agonized over this one. Also, I'm dropping in someone new simply because this class has become my new obsession. I have big plans for her down the road.

**Orbit above Voss  
** **The Thunderclap**

Fynta got her call into Garza as soon as they were in orbit, before they hit hyperspace. She greeted the general in her fatigues, since her armor wasn't in a fit state. "Hello, Major," Garza said as soon as she answered. The older woman paused half a second to take in Fynta's appearance, but didn't comment on it. "Our troops are already back on the move. More than one senior general is singing our praises at the moment. Probably even more impressive, Senator Evran's staff sent me an _exceptionally_ complimentary message regarding your conduct, signed by the man himself. Apparently you made a good impression."

Fynta did her best not to catch Jorgan's eye. She knew he would be smiling, because he was just outside the general's view. _The smug shabuir_. "I'm glad we were a good representation."

"Yes, and that's always helpful in times like these. With more manpower on the ground to supplement our forces, the tide will finally turn in our favor. We're only a few steps away from General Rakton himself. He'll have to commit his personal forces somewhere soon. When he does, you'll be there to strike." Fynta heard approving murmurs from her crew, and felt her own fingers twitch with anticipation.

"When we get our shot, Havoc Squad will be ready," she assured the General. She was ready now. There were few words in any language to describe just how badly she wanted to gut the ge'hutuun. She might even make it a messy kill just so she could watch the light leave his eyes.

"I'm glad to hear it. Take a few days for your team to rest and gear up, but be prepared to move at a moment's notice. I'll contact you as soon as we are ready. Garza out." The holo ended, and Fynta heaved a sigh.

"Almost time," Jorgan whispered as he walked past Fynta towards the armory. The rest of the squad faded off in different directions while the major stood there, staring down at the console. _Almost time_ , she repeated to herself.

Fynta rubbed her face with both hands. "I'm going to get a shower and clean my armor." She wasn't speaking to anyone in particular, and there didn't appear to be anyone around to speak too. She was exhausted, and the smell of blood lingered in her nose. For once she wasn't hungry. She also wasn't the only one who thought a shower would be a good idea. The refreshers were full when Fynta entered, Yuun at the far end, then Vik, Jorgan, Cormac, and Elara. Leaving the end stall for Fynta. She entered the stall, removed her filthy bodysuit, and started the water.

"Shab, boss. That hurt as bad as it looks?" All eyes turned toward Fynta at Cormac's question. She still hadn't seen a mirror, but Balic was tall enough to see her shoulders, even from a stall down.

Fynta put her fingers to the bottom of her jaw and winced at the deep ache they produced. Elara stood up on her toes to see over the divider and grimaced. "Sir, you should let me look at that. We need to check for nerve damage at the very least."

Jorgan glanced over as well, brows pulled together as he studied the back of the medic's head. Fynta sighed and tipped her face into the water, knowing that between the two of them, Jorgan or Dorne would make sure she got a proper medical exam, whether she wanted one or not. "Sure thing, Dorne." Nerve damage wasn't a problem, because now that she'd messed with it, the shabbing thing hurt like hell.

After the shower, Fynta shut herself in her room to work on her armor. She stifled a groan when someone knocked. The door was still locked, meaning she had to get up and walk over to it. It seemed like too much effort. They knocked again, a little louder, and Fynta knew whoever it was wasn't going to give up. _The ship had better be on fire_ , she thought, swinging the door open to find an almost sheepish looking Cathar on the other side.

"Sorry, were you asleep?" Aric asked, half-turning to leave.

Fynta wrapped her fingers in Jorgan's shirt and hauled him inside before anyone else could request an audience. When she shut the door again, flipping the lock, the Cathar raised a brow. Fynta shrugged it off and sighed. "No, just scrubbing my armor. There was more blood than I thought." She was beginning to rethink her earlier vow to end Rakton up close. Fynta wasn't sure any score was worth this much effort to clean up. "Wouldn't mind being asleep though. Why are you still awake?"

"I wanted to make sure you were alright." Those words triggered a memory, and for a second, Fynta was back in her bed, staring at Jorgan while he sat in the chair bouncing a datapad on his knee. The Cathar's pained expression when she called him lieutenant was etched into Fynta's mind. Guilt and anger threatened to overwhelm her as the corpses of almost two hundred faceless soldiers swam in her vision. The images fled just as quickly as they'd ambushed her with the warm weight of Jorgan's hands on her shoulders, anchoring her to reality again.

"Fynta?" There was concern in his voice, and Fynta realized she hadn't moved quite as far beyond the asteroid prison catastrophe as she'd thought.

"Fatigue," she answered with a wave of her hand, but Aric didn't look convinced. "I'm fine, Dorne says I'll live."

Jorgan sighed in a way that told Fynta that he hadn't been asking about her physical wellbeing this time. Instead, he cupped her chin in his hand again, and turned it to the side to examine the bruise. Fynta had finally gotten a look at it and agreed, the thing looked awful. "It's a good thing that armor held up," he finally commented, releasing her to pick up the chest plate. "An inch higher, and we might not have been so lucky."

A scorch mark, the kind that no amount of cleaning would get off, marred the armor between the pauldron and the ridged collar. If Fynta hadn't been wearing either of those, the energy blade would have simply glided across the beskar, and removed her head at the neck. "Yeah, but we were," she mumbled, feeling the weight of her close call for the first time.

Fynta watched Jorgan as he scowled at the burns, turning the armor in his hands. Normally, this would be the time where she cracked a joke about being invincible, but the Cathar wouldn't appreciate that. Eventually, Fynta couldn't take the worry in his eyes anymore, and put her hand on his cheek, bringing his attention back to her. Jorgan dropped the plate on the bed and folded his arms around Fynta, pulling her close, and propping his chin on the top of her head. She wrapped her arms around his torso and closed her eyes, leaning against his chest, and listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. Somehow, it soothed her.

**Nar Shaddaa  
** **Mezenti Spaceport**

Zolah Holran watched the bounty hunter wrestle the red skinned Twi'lek through the spaceport. The man's face had been partially obscured by a cloth, until Anspi'shel threw her head back, smacking him in the mouth. She spat and swore, calling for Kaliyo's head. Eventually, her screams faded behind the closing doors of the lift.

The Imperial cipher sighed as she started towards the ship. It had been a long mission on Nar Shaddaa, filled with twists and turns. Of course she didn't fault Watcher X for making an attempt to escape, she would have done the same. Neither did she feel regret over killing the man; he'd been brutal. _Not that I'm much different_ , Zolah thought, calling back the lift that had carried Anspi'shel and the hunter away.

Now that Zolah had helped Kaliyo get her revenge on the Twi'lek, it was time to turn in for the day, and maybe get some rest while she waited on the next mission update. Oddly enough, she felt no guilt over betraying Kaliyo's supposed friend. After all, it wasn't her business, and the Twi'lek had no more information about her Rattataki companion.

Watcher X's final words before he died still rolled around in Zolah's mind. _No one makes it out of this game alive_. She knew that, right? One day, she would fail a mission, or perhaps she'd survive to an age where her skillset was outdated. _Look around, Cipher, this is your future._ Zolah suppressed a shiver at the thought of ending up in that filthy place. Shadow Town was much worse than she'd expected.

"So," Kaliyo began, pulling Zolah from her morbid thoughts. "You and Anspi talk much when you were together? Swap stories about the old days or gossip while I was fetching the hunter?"

The cipher glanced over, one thin eyebrow raised at the note of thinly veiled concern in the Rattataki's voice. Of course Zolah gotten as much information on her secretive associate as the Twi'lek could give, which had been no more than the confirmation that Kaliyo was a liar. That wasn't exactly a juicy piece of intel, the woman owned up to it herself when they'd met on Hutta. Granted, any leverage was important, so what Kaliyo didn't know, could possibly work in Zolah's favor down the road. "You were there, we didn't have time to talk."

"Just figured I'd ask," Kaliyo replied with a shrug. They lapsed into silence, and Zolah took the opportunity to flip through a few of her Imperial comm lines to see if she could get an update on what had happened in the last few weeks while she was running errands for a madman. The lift doors opened, and Zolah sighed with relief at the sight of her ship, where a comfortable bed awaited in a room she'd debugged and sealed herself.

"Whole thing got me thinking, though," Kaliyo started again, and Zolah relegated the comms to the background. "I've had a lot of partners over the years—Anspi, Nem'ro. . . ." Zolah stayed quiet while she opened the airlock to their ship. "Guy named Rholl used to hijack Republic supply ships. He had money, he had brass." The two women stopped just inside the airlock, and the Rattataki crossed her arms, a sly smirk on her heavily pierced features. "How do you think you measure up?"

Zolah decided to play along, matching the thug's stance and tone. "Hijacking Republic ships is only exciting the first time. I give you variety."

Kaliyo erupted in laughter. "Okay, guess that explains one, and the others would have tried to kill me eventually. Still, seems weird that with all the nasty, smart, rich people I've been with, I ended up with you."

The cipher agent grinned, almost a full smile. "We all need a break from the high life sometimes."

"I'm just joking, agent. Joking. Get used to it," Kaliyo said with upraised hands. "Geez, you know you're a little creepy when you smile like that?"

"It's all a part of my charm, Kaliyo. Perhaps we should get some drinks before our next mission, spend a few of those hard earned credits," Zolah answered, holding out one hand expectantly.

The Rattataki chuckled and plopped half of the credits from Anspi'shel's bounty into Zolah's palm. "Can't get one over on you, huh, agent?"

Zolah offered a conciliatory wave before pocketing the money and heading for the bridge. She paused when one of her implants picked up some interesting chatter. Tilting her head to the side, Zolah listened to the frantic voices. _"This is an outrage! We shall crush the Voss for their insolence. Imagine, letting a Sith Lord be assassinated on their sovereign soil. Neutral territory at that. Yet, they refuse to take action. The Republic shall feel the wrath of the Empire for this insult—"_

"Uh Oh, I know that look," Kaliyo said from where she leaned against the holotable. "Big trouble?"

Zolah listened a moment longer before deciding the officer's rant was no more than the sputtering of a concerned man. No doubt he was the one in charge of the Sith's wellbeing and was looking at an unpleasant death for his failure. "It appears a Sith Lord has been assassinated on Voss."

The Rattataki snorted a laugh. "These Sith are dropping like flies, I thought they were supposed to be formidable?"

The holo rang, causing Kaliyo to bounce forward off the control panel. Zolah suppressed a groan when she saw where the call was coming from. "If you have doubts, feel free to take them up with Lord Zorrid, this will likely be a summons back to Dromund Kaas."

"Gotta hand it to that one," Kaliyo remarked over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen. "She's a special kind of crazy."

**Coruscant  
Hotel Manarai**

Jorgan snarled, pressing Fynta into the mattress. She dug her nails into his shoulders, encouraging the Cathar to go harder, faster. Fynta hoovered on the fine line between simple pleasure and euphoric oblivion. Then, Jorgan sank his teeth into her uninjured shoulder, tipping the balance. Sound rushed out as the world exploded in white, accented by sharp color, with only Aric's ragged breathing in her ear breaking through. Despite being numb to herself, she was simultaneously aware of everything about him. Then, he cried out as he too came apart, body shivering atop of hers. The world was just beginning to come back into focus when Jorgan collapsed on shaking arms, inhaling deeply as he nestled his face against her neck.

Fynta had always wondered what the Cathar smelled when he did that. Whatever it was must have agreed with him, because Jorgan growled and rolled, pulling her with him, and holding her to his chest. When she looked up, he was staring at her with an expression that both terrified and excited her. Fynta's mind tried to put a word to it, but it was such a dangerous word that she immediately shied away.

As a distraction, Fynta reached for the sheets, tugging them over their bodies. She snuggled into Aric's side, pillowing her head on his shoulder, and sighed happily. "You never cease to amaze me, cyare." Why was calling him beloved so much easier than admitting to herself that she might actually be _in_ love with him? Was it some deep rooted prejudice that she had no control over? Or simply that their lives as soldiers were too short for such meaningful attachments? Fynta considered these, then discarded them. It had to be something else.

Laughter pulled Fynta from her thoughts, and she saw that Jorgan was looking to their left. "We forgot to close the curtains."

Fynta propped onto an elbow to look at the window and the vast skyscape beyond. "Guess it's a good thing we didn't bother to turn on the lights." The idea of Jorgan having a voyeuristic side intrigued Fynta greatly. She wondered if he'd ever acted on it, or if he could be convinced to.

Their hotel room was simple, but nice. Honestly, Fynta hadn't taken the time to appreciate their accommodations upon arrival. The trip from Voss to Coruscant for debriefing had been a long one, and they had yet to risk sex aboard a fully crewed ship. Then, they were subjected to hours upon hours of debriefings until it was decided that there had been nothing else Havoc Squad could have done to bring the Voss over to their side. By the time Fynta and Jorgan had stumbled into the hotel room, the two commandos were tearing at each other's clothes.

"Would I regret it if I asked how you know your way around a human's body so well?" Fynta teased, returning her attention to her lazing Cathar, running her nails over his scalp.

Jorgan shuddered, rumbling happily in his throat in a _not-purr_. "I've had a while to figure you out," he replied, turning his head to trail gentle kisses along Fynta's bruised jaw, throat, collarbone where the discoloration finally ended.

Fynta shivered, a hushed moan slipping through slightly parted lips. Jorgan had figured out just recently that her greatest pleasure came from being on the threshold of pain. Initially, he had been hesitant about indulging her fetish, until he realized what it meant for him. Afterward, he'd begun experimenting, holding back a little less each time they were together. Fynta was amazed by his strength, and the control he held over it, yet she always demanded more. Eventually, one of them would reach their limit, but Fynta was determined it wouldn't be her.

Closing her eyes and tipping her head to the side, Fynta smiled while he nipped playfully at her neck. "Been fantasizing about me?"

Jorgan stopped all movement so suddenly that Fynta's eyes popped open. He was smiling at her, and again, a warmth entered her chest, one that made her incredibly uncomfortable, but she didn't want it to stop. "Maybe."

Fynta gave his chest a playful slap, eliciting a grunt, and turned the conversation towards safer topics. Sex was safe, for her anyway. It was something she was good at. "Then what took you so shabbing long? I'd almost given up on you." In truth, she would never have given up on him, and that realization startled her.

Shifting positions again, Jorgan pushed Fynta onto her back and propped his chin on her sternum, much the same way she always did to him. It was adorable, really, and he met her smile with his own. Only, this time, Fynta couldn't look away. Her heart sped up, and she knew something big was coming. Her gut clenched at the possibilities. Suddenly, Fynta didn't feel playful anymore.

Sensing her discomfort, Jorgan removed his weight from her chest to prop on his elbow next to Fynta. His head rested in his hand, and the other ran fingers through her hair. Fynta absolutely loved it when Aric played with her hair, even if the tangles pulled. There was something soothing about it. She was almost relaxed when he spoke again, her eyes drifting shut as sleep pulled at her. "I needed to make sure it was worth the risk to my career before I started sleeping with my commanding officer. That it was real."

Fynta stopped breathing, keeping her eyes closed, but definitely awake. Calling what they had _real_ was a step towards permanence, something she had never, ever considered for herself. Honestly, she couldn't believe that she'd survived this long. What if she told Aric she loved him, then died on the battlefield next week? Or worse, the other way around. Could she live with that?

Fynta's mind slammed to a halt. _Do I love him?_ Shab, did she even really know what love was? Fynta had asked her mother once, when she was fourteen and considering her clan options for a husband. Her mother's response had been simple, _Find a man you'd tear the galaxy apart for, but who would never ask you to._

When Fynta opened her eyes again, Aric was still watching her. His expression mingled concern and calculation. The Cathar knew her well enough by now to tell the difference between honest emotion and feigned calm, so Fynta didn't try to hide her panic from him. Something she'd never done with anyone. That was when she realized that she truly trusted Captain Aric Jorgan of the Republic army, implicitly.

"How much do you know about Cathar?" He asked, working the tangles out of her hair carefully while he spoke. His tone was casual, but Fynta could feel the rapid beat of his heart where his chest pressed against her side. Or maybe that was hers.

"Not as much as I'd like," Fynta admitted. "My father revered the Cathar, I grew up on stories of their prowess in battle and steadfastness in tradition."

Jorgan nodded. "Even being raised by humans, they made sure I knew about my heritage, and there were a few Cathar families on our block for me to learn from. There was one tradition in particular that I always felt strongly about." Fynta remained silent, measuring every word, while her mind raced with all the possible outcomes of this conversation. Aric continued. "You see, for the Cathar, picking a mate is a lifetime commitment."

_Fierfek. There it is._ Fynta planned to stop him from going further, knowing it would ruin what they had, but her mouth wouldn't work. Jorgan kept talking. "Big decision, as you can imagine." Of course she could imagine, and Fynta knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was the last person Aric should throw his lot in with. She was impulsive, reckless, and volatile. Fynta never held any delusions that those were healthy aspects of her personality, yet, she'd embraced them nonetheless.

This conversation needed to stop, but, Jorgan's next words changed everything. "I never really gave it much thought before. Then, I met you."

Fynta looked at the Cathar as if seeing him for the first time. He didn't meet her eyes, giving her enough space to silently freak out without being obvious. It was crazy to think that this man, who'd all but despised her on Ord Mantell, was now considering spending the rest of his life by her side. At some point, he'd pulled the sheet up to cover Fynta's body, even tucked it between them, forming a barrier against their nakedness, while still maintaining comfortable, physical contact. Jorgan knew Fynta all too well, the good and the bad. Hell, he'd been on the receiving end of the bad, and still wanted her. Was there anything else she could ask of a man?

"Lately, I've been thinking about you, me, and what'll happen when this war is over. I think we'd do alright together," Aric continued, and miraculously, Fynta started to relax. To settle into the idea of growing old next to this grumpy shabuir. She'd never considered growing old before. _I would gladly tear the galaxy apart for him; and he would never forgive me for it._  
  
Steadying her heart, Fynta replied in a voice that sounded much calmer than she felt. "Aric Jorgan, are you asking me to be your life mate?"

"I . . . ." Jorgan met her eyes at last and his words seemed to stick in his throat. He'd been the strong one so far, soothing her fear while battling his own. It was almost laughable how bad they were at this.

To help ease his discomfort, Fynta forced a smile, finding it easier than she expected. "My people have that too, you know. It's called marriage."

Jorgan stared down at her, his eyes moving rapidly over hers, searching them. Then he sighed, almost a laugh. "Blast it, woman, I had this all planned out. Then you had to seduce me and throw the whole plan into disarray."

This time, Fynta chuckled. "Well, that is what I'm good at. Disrupting your plans, that is," she replied with a sage nod, while insinuating the seduction bit too.

"Truer words were never spoken," Jorgan responded. Following it up immediately with his answer. "But, yes. Life mate, wife, however you want to put it. The position's yours—if you want it."

This was the moment of truth. Fynta had to make a choice, so she made the only one she knew she could live with. "Does it come with benefits?"

Jorgan relaxed visibly. "I'll take that as a _ye—"_

Fynta didn't give him a chance to finish his sentence. She'd always believed that actions spoke louder than words anyway. Grabbing his face roughly, she pulled Aric's lips to hers, sighing into his mouth as his arms slid around her, wrapping her in warmth. The Cathar inhaled deeply again and squeezed tighter, deepening the kiss. Fynta surrendered to all of the emotions swirling through her, finding that for once, rage wasn't one of them. Somehow, Aric had always managed to calm the beast within, and if that wasn't who she should devote her life to, then Fynta didn't know what was. Besides, the decision had been made, consequences be damned.

* * *

Jorgan laid in bed with Fynta in his arms. He'd woken to the chirp of the alarm, and shut it off before the noise could rouse her. Now, in the quiet of the hotel room, he had a moment alone with his thoughts, and the galaxy flipped on its head. He'd done it, and against all logic, Fynta had accepted. Of all the outcomes, this was actually the least likely, but Jorgan had to try. Rubbing his cheek against her hair, he sighed and decided not to think about the implications this could have for their careers. For the first time in his life, reputation wasn't the most important thing.

Fynta stirred, shifting the leg she had thrown across him to stretch. Jorgan took a deep breath, savoring the unique smell that was Fynta Wolfe. A concoction of blaster oil, sweat, beskar, and him. It pulled a possessive growl from his throat, causing Fynta to raise a questioning eyebrow at him. "You've done that a lot lately."

Jorgan's smiled grew. "You smell like me."

Fynta's eyebrow rose higher, and Jorgan couldn't help but chuckle. Suddenly, he didn't want to wait any longer. He'd proposed, she'd accepted . . . . Generally, Jorgan wasn't known for spontaneity, but he was overcome by the desire to ensure that the rest of the galaxy understood that she was off limits now. "You know, we're on Coruscant. Maybe we should find a place to have this done officially."

Fynta's expression morphed into one of concern, and Jorgan worried she might be having second thoughts. "Why wait?" She asked, her eyes almost pleading, even if her tone was completely casual. Jorgan was confused by the contrast, but knew better than to push the issue at this precise moment. "You said you wanted to marry me. We can do it right now."

Aric sighed, his lips pressed in a tight line as his more rational brain finally caught up with the situation. "You don't think the brass will approve, do you?" He took her silence as answer enough. If they went to Garza, and she denied their request, they'd be split up. So, Jorgan was open to other options. "Okay, how?"

With one hand clasped around the sheet, Fynta sat up and placed the palm of the other against his cheek. It was hot against his skin, intensifying the look in her eyes as she stared into his. "Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde."

Jorgan rolled up to a sitting position as well, one leg bent at the knee, and turned to kiss her palm. He could tell she was speaking Mando'a, even recognized a couple of the words. More importantly, he could feel their weight, tell how important they were to the woman sitting next to him. So, Jorgan repeated them, granted, they didn't quite roll off his tongue as fluently. He assumed it was the sentiment that counted.

"Now, what did I just say?" Not that it mattered, because the smile that spread across Fynta's face before he'd even finished uttering the words was enough for him. Whatever it was, it was binding. That was all Jorgan cared about.

"We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors," Fynta quoted softly, almost reverently, which was a first. "It's the Mandalorian marriage vow. In the eyes of Ka'ra, we are now husband and wife."

"Just like that, huh?" The words were simple, inelegant, and everything they needed.

"Just like that," Fynta answered. The change from her earlier panic to confident now was as startling as always. Jorgan doubted he'd ever truly get used to her rapid shifts in mood, but he was willing to spend his life learning.

Jorgan leaned back into the pillows, pulling Fynta with him. "Then it's done. You're stuck with me now."

Fynta pillowed her head on his chest, running her fingers over his stomach, steadily working her way lower as she traced patterns in his fur. "I wouldn't have it any other way, riduur."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> shabuir [SHAH-boo-EER] jerk
> 
> ge'hutuun [ge-hoo-TOON] bandit, villain, petty thief - can also mean a serious criminal you have no respect for - abusive
> 
> beskar [BESK-gar] Mandalorian iron
> 
> cyare [SHAH-ray] beloved, loved
> 
> Ka'ra [KAY-rah] stars - ancient Mandalorian myth - ruling council of fallen kings
> 
> riduur [REE-door] partner, spouse, husband, wife


	30. Hoodwinked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 30! I'd like to thank you all for the kudos and comments. If you have anything you'd like to see with this group outside of the main story, let me know, and I'll see what I can do.
> 
> Generally speaking, I hate Corellia, being stuck traversing those roads sucks, however, the story was a lot of fun, so I suppose that makes up for the game play. Hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> Oh, and Happy Holidays!

**Coruscant  
** **Hotel Manarai**

Fynta did her best not to let her annoyance show as she faced the general just a few hours after sharing nuptials with Aric. "We've intercepted a transmission that an attack is imminent," Garza said, completely oblivious to the major's irritation. Mostly because the woman had yet to make eye contact with Fynta. She was either signing her datapad, pointing techs in the right direction, or leaning in when someone came by to whisper information to her.

Still, the briefing persisted. "General Rakton has personally taken the field. This is the opportunity we've been waiting for. Round up your team, and join me on Corellia as quickly as possible." The general's frazzled state reaffirmed Fynta's belief that informing the woman that her favorite commanders had just broken some pretty serious regs should be bottom of Fynta's priority list, if it ranked at all.

"I'll get Havoc to Corellia on the double, General," Fynta replied, eyeing the light spilling out from under the bathroom door where Jorgan was hiding. He had the enviable task of trying to round up the squad, and that room was the only modicum of privacy he had.

"I'll give you a detailed briefing after you touch down. Garza out."

Fynta sighed and dropped the comm onto the rumpled bed. She could hear Jorgan's voice long before she nudged the door open to give him the all clear. The Cathar nodded, and Fynta stepped back to let him by. In no time, he was pacing around the small room while he argued with Cormac. Fynta took a moment to admire the view. Jorgan was incredibly appealing in his fatigue pants and undershirt.

"I appreciate your predicament, Cormac—" he glanced over to where Fynta leaned against the wall, before returning his attention to their new sergeant. "Believe me, I do." Balic's papers had finally come through. He'd taken a demotion and a substantial pay cut, but _Sergeant_ Balic Cormac was now an official member of the Galactic Army of the Republic.

"Listen, these are our orders, so wake Dorne up, and get back to the ship." Fynta smiled when Jorgan cut the transmission and turned towards her. Authoritative Jorgan always turned her on, if only there were time to do something about it. "I've contacted everyone," he said, tossing the device next to hers. Fynta swore he sighed as he looked at the disheveled mess of sheets, and imagined his thoughts were probably running along the same line as hers. Instead of an invitation, however, Jorgan remained professional. "We're looking at a little over an hour before they all reach the Thunderclap."

"An hour?" Generally speaking, Havoc squad could be ready to mobilize in fifty-two minutes, no matter how far they had scattered across a planet's surface.

Jorgan's jaw muscles worked back and forth. "Vik was . . . indisposed." The Cathar rubbed the back of his neck and squeezed one eye shut, a habitual tell that he was embarrassed. "Kinda wish he hadn't answered."

Fynta started laughing. It didn't surprise her one bit. "He works fast. I wonder how much she cost." Jorgan favored her with his signature tight lipped smile.

Without warning, the Cathar leaned in to kiss Fynta's forehead, wrapping an arm around her waist. "I was thinking, we could still get something to eat. There's just enough time, and I saw a little cantina in the spaceport."

Fynta snaked her arms around his torso, and was on the verge of suggesting that Vik shouldn't get to have all the fun, when her stomach growled audibly. Truth be told, it was a better idea to get food, then begin the preflight checks on the Thunderclap before everyone was on board. Besides, Rakton was waiting for her on Corellia. So, looking up to meet the ice blue eyes of her lover, Fynta smiled. "Deal."

 **The Thunderclap**  
**Orbit around Corellia  
** **485 Days After Ord Mantell**

"Major, good. Now that you've arrived, we can begin operations in earnest." General Garza stood in muted blue, but instead of the serene office that usually served as her background, there was a man on a gurney, and another on the comms.

"Imperial forces, including General Rakton, have invaded Corellia in full force. Local resistance fighters have barely held them back from total victory." The transmission became garbled for a few seconds before solidifying. "—ellia is the tipping point for the entire war. If the Imperials win here, they could reverse all our hard fought advances. Now, your target is the Bastion, one of the main centers for logistics and strategic planning in the entire Republic. Rakton seized the Bastion during the invasion, he's clearly hoping to use the information inside to plan his next campaign against us. It's your job to stop him."

Fynta forced herself to remain in parade rest, instead of bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Just tell me where to begin, General." She was ready to move forward with this mission, and eager to take out Rakton at last.

"The Bastion is one of the most heavily secured fortresses in the—" the signal cut out again and Fynta glanced at Yuun. "Blast it," Garza swore. "We'll have to discuss the details once you arrive. We've set up our command center in a former cantina, the Gilded Descent. Watch for targets of— Imperial commando teams are—see you soon. Garza—"

The signal broke a final time and didn't return, so Fynta assumed that concluded her briefing with the general. As far as these things went, Havoc was operating on about as much intel as they usually did. "Alright, Yuun, take us in. I want the rest of you geared, and at the airlock by the time we touch down." No doubt Yuun was already prepared. The Gand hadn't let her down yet.

Fynta went to her room to finish gathering her kit while everyone else split up. It was almost startling when Jorgan walked in and started rummaging through drawers. They'd told the crew everything during the trip over, and no one had been surprised. Fynta had been relieved, although Jorgan had grumbled about their apparent lack of discretion. Afterward, they'd found all the Cathar's gear and personal belongings piled by her bedroom door, courtesy of Vik, no doubt.

As Fynta watched her husband, a weight settled in her stomach, that gut feeling that told her something wasn't right. She was toying with her necklace when Jorgan glanced up from snapping his greaves on. "What?"

That had been the Cathar's default greeting for more than two years, and Fynta found that it made her smile just as much now as it had on those first missions. "I have something for you," she blurted out. Truth be told, she'd had it for a while, but the timing had never felt right. It had seemed too personal when she'd bought it for his promotion to lieutenant. Then, not personal enough after. Now, it felt as if the galaxy would implode if she didn't give it to him immediately.

Jorgan sat on the edge of the bed while Fynta dug in her locker. The shabbing box had fallen to the back, and she hoped it wasn't crushed too badly. Finally, she emerged victorious. "I had originally planned to give it to you with your first promotion, but . . . ."

The Cathar took the box with a look of suspicion that made Fynta chuckle. When he finally got the lid off, his expression transfixed Fynta. Jorgan examined the leather band carefully, running his thumb across the branding. Setting the wrappings aside, he turned it over in his hands. Eventually, Jorgan looked up at her. "What does it say?"

"Ni hukaatii'gar shebs gar kama." Fynta smiled. "It means, I've got your back, always. Loosely translated."

Jorgan nodded at the leather band as if reaching a decision, then slipped it over his wrist before pulling on his gauntlet. "Never thought I'd be wearing something with the word _shebs_ on it."

"You like it, then?" Fynta's heart beat unnaturally fast for such a simple gift. She hoped her desperation wasn't too obvious.

Jorgan pulled her down beside him to plant a gentle kiss on her lips. His eyes softened as his fingers toyed with the chain of her necklace, just visible beneath her armored collar. "It's perfect."

Fynta pulled him closer, overwhelmed by the weight of his gesture. She never took her necklace off if she could help it, and Jorgan was stating the same. That this token would be his wedding band, only coming off when there was no other option. Like the rings that Cormac and Dorne wore on their tags.

Suddenly, someone banged on the door, forcing Fynta and Jorgan apart. "Hey, you two, no closed door meetings during mission hours," Cormac called from the other side. Vik's choking laughter echoing behind him.

"I'm going to strangle those two mir'shebs," Fynta sighed.

To her surprise, Jorgan chuckled. "They'll get bored with us eventually, just ignore them." He stood to test his gauntlet blade, then grabbed his helmet.

Fynta flashed a cheeky grin. "I certainly hope not." Jorgan cut his eyes at her, one brow raised. "That'd mean I'm not doing my job properly."

The Cathar rolled his eyes and swung the door open, revealing two startled sergeants. Vik and Cormac scattered in opposite directions, each claiming it had been the other's idea. Jorgan shook his head before looking back at her. "Ready to get to work?"

Fynta pushed to her feet and grabbed her helmet. "I'm ready to kill Rakton."

**Corellian Spaceport  
**

"Oh shab _._ " Cormac thought the words came from Fynta, then realized it had been Elara. His girl was picking up all the worst Mandalorian habits, and it made him proud. Corellia was a disaster, though. As _shab worthy_ as he'd ever seen. This was the place where the big wigs made holovids about fake wars, not where real ones were fought. The buildings had holes in them, the smartly paved streets were destroyed, and there wasn't a civvie in sight. Not to mention, it was daylight. Sometimes, planet jumping could really mess with a guy's internal chrono. It was supposed to be dark at almost 2100 hours, but it looked like the day was just getting started.

"Imps marching on Corellia, Rakton in the Bastion. . . . We've got a lot of work to do," Jorgan predicted, helmet swiveling side to side with the hands on hips.

"Let's dig in, troops. We might be here a while." Fynta sounded resigned, instead of excited like Cormac expected. He figured she'd be chomping at the bit to have the chance to finally put a bolt into Rakton. Then Cormac realized what was bothering her, and he felt a little bad for the two commanders. They'd gotten hitched, no time for a honeymoon, no privacy aboard the ship, then back into a war zone. He resolved to make it his personal mission to ensure they both survived, if only so they could take a proper vacation together.

"Look alive, everyone," Fynta ordered, slowing their progress through the broken streets. "Yuun is reporting high energy readings up ahead. Could be one of those commando teams that Garza warned us about."

"Is that what she was doing?" Vik snorted.

Cormac caught the flash of a barrel just before a bolt struck the wall a few centimeters above his head. "Contact!" He turned his hand cannon on a burning air car. The air car fired back.

More blaster fire issued from the alleyway between two buildings, causing Havoc to break formation in favor of an orderly scramble for cover. As they neared a gated area, another group of Imps opened up on them from a different direction. "They're trying to funnel us," Jorgan shouted over the din of blaster fire.

"Then we go straight through them. Vik, Cormac, give us a window," Fynta ordered.

Sharing a three nod countdown, the two sergeants lobbed timed grenades in the direction of the shooting. It stopped half a second before the charges blew, and didn't start up again. Fynta waited two heartbeats before giving the order to move out.

"The Gilded Descent is one block away," Jorgan reported as they ran, occasionally turning to fire back at the Imperials pursuing them. "We've got a lot more on our tail than we have ammo for, Fynta."

Havoc was at a full run when the major swung around the corner and took a bolt in the shoulder. It wasn't enough to knock her off her feet, but did a pretty good job of stopping Havoc cold. "Cease fire!" Someone called out. "Identify yourself!"

They'd flattened themselves against the wall, out of visual range. Fynta swore, then activated her external audio link. "Major Wolfe, Havoc Squad."

Cormac heard a few not so nice words in Huttese issue from the direction the shot had come from, while the guy in charge continued. "Stand down, men."

"Are you alright, sir?" Elara asked, still firing around Jorgan, who'd positioned himself at the end of the line.

"What's one more bruise?" Fynta replied, peeking around the corner again, before leading Havoc into the line of fire. She sighed when no more bolts zipped past. "Ran through three teams of Imperial commandos to get shot by my own government. Hope that's not an omen."

"Not like anything can kill you anyway," Vik remarked casually, his massive rifle cradled in his arms as he walked behind her.

Fynta laughed. "Yeah, I'll try to live up to that."

"Sorry, Major," a Mirialan in a captain's uniform offered at their approach. "We've been neck deep in Imperials all day, ordered to shoot on sight."

Fynta waved his apology off. "We had some Imps tailing us, so make sure your men stay alert."

"It was actually a really good shot," Balic added with a grin.

Fynta's faceplate swiveled towards Cormac and lingered there for a long few seconds. He could envision a raised eyebrow, accompanied by a challenging glare. Finally, the major sighed, rolling her shoulder. "Yeah, it was."

None of the troops claimed the shot, despite the compliment. Fynta waved Havoc through the Republic blockage and down the road towards the Casino where the general awaited them. Jorgan had moved near the front to walk next to the major, whose helmet turned towards him, then shook side to side in answer to whatever he'd asked privately.

Cormac took the opportunity to check in on his own wife, grinning when he activated her private line. "We visit the nicest places."

"Indeed," came Elara's clipped response. "Perhaps, after this, we can visit somewhere that doesn't require extra ammunition to improve our odds of survival."

Chuckling, Cormac nudged her with his shoulder just enough to get her attention. "Cheer up, Elara. I overheard the captain making vacation plans. That's a good sign, right?"

Elara missed a step, her helmet snapping up. "Truly? Jorgan was planning a sabbatical?" She paused for a few beats before continuing in a more subdued tone. "I didn't know he was capable of such a thing."

Cormac harrumphed, thinking back to counting rations instead of finding a hotel. "Yeah, takes one to know one." Elara clucked her tongue in annoyance, helmet tipping back as they passed under a vaulted entrance to the casino. Deciding to smooth things over before his mouth got him in too much trouble, Cormac put on his cheesiest grin, pulling his helmet off to look down at her. "Love you."

Elara rolled her eyes. "As penance, I get to choose our destination and activities."

Cormac burst into laughter, unable to stop himself. "Oh good, we can count the toiletries next." The punch she aimed at him actually stung a little. "Easy, doll. You've been hanging around Fynta too long."

Elara hit him again.

**The Gilded Descent**

"Good luck, Major. Dismissed." Garza returned to arguing with Corellia Security officer Locke and Captain Phaeris without another glance at the Havoc commanders. Locke was the local contact, and a former soldier of Garza's. Meanwhile, Phaeris was a _contracted pilot_ , according to Garza. Jorgan didn't understand why the general couldn't just called the woman what she was, a paid smuggler.

Fynta stopped in the middle of the main room and stood with her hands on her hips. Jorgan couldn't figure out how she did it, but everyone in Havoc seemed to know when she had something to say. Yuun was the first person to look up from the terminal he'd parked at to aid in stabilizing the sectors power grid, then Cormac started making his way over, followed by Vik, who looked to have been messing with the slot machines. Jorgan sighed and made a mental note to make the Weequay return whatever he'd stolen.

Dorne was still preoccupied with triage, barking orders to the other medics, reining in the barely controlled chaos. Jorgan had always marveled at medics. No one seemed to care about Elara's accent over in that corner of the large Casino room. If an Imperial knew of a better way to keep a soldier from bleeding out, they'd take it, no questions asked.

"We got a plan, Boss?" Cormac asked, arms crossed over his massive chest.

"Of sorts." Fynta spared one last look towards Elara, who approached at a quick walk, removing her bloody gloves in the process.

"Apologies, Major." The medic's angular features looked all the sharper for her grimace.

"First op is pretty simple. We need to case the landing bays and figure out a way to take it back from the Imps." Fynta nodded towards the holotable, holding Elara back as the others gathered around. "Dorne, you'll do the most good here. Those men need your expertise more than we do right now."

"Yes, sir." The medic didn't wait to be dismissed. Simply turned on her heel, and marched back into the fray.

Jorgan and Fynta joined the others at the table, and he plugged his datapad in, loading the schematics of the coordinates Locke had given them. Meanwhile, Fynta addressed their technical specialist. "Yuun, commandeer one of those terminals and work your magic. I want eyes on, and control of, every door or security gate between here and our objective."

"Yuun does not do magic, but Yuun will grant this request." Fynta's eyebrows shot up as she watched him retreat back to the wall of terminals. She glanced at Jorgan, and he shook his head. Gands didn't have much of a sense of humor; or irony, for that matter.

Giving herself a shake, Fynta turned her attention back to the remnants of her squad. "That leaves the four of us to figure this out as we go." Jorgan did the math. Two teams, which likely meant she was sending Cormac with him, and taking Vik with her. Fynta brought up the map of their objective on the holotable. Pointing at each building while she laid out their plan of attack.

"One more thing," the major continued, flipping the three dimensional map over to display a street level view. "It looks like we're on foot, so watch your step."

Cormac leaned forward and pointed out a narrow alley behind the main building. "This will be our best bet to infiltrate."

Fynta shook her head. "We aren't infiltrating just yet, we need to play this smarter than our usual antics."

"Party pooper," Vik murmured. No one responded. Something wasn't sitting right with the major, it was evident in her lack of banter, and that made everyone nervous. They watched quietly while she considered the map.

"Okay, here's the plan," Fynta said at length. "Jorgan, you take Cormac up here—" she pointed to a couple of high rises. "He's the climber, and you're the sniper. If you get up there and see a better vantage point, take it."

The two men nodded in unison, while Fynta heaved a heavy sigh. "Vik, that leaves me and you with the dirty work."

"Don't say it."

Fynta nodded. "The sewer system."

"Shit," Vik complained.

"Hopefully not too much." The Weequay rolled his eyes at Fynta's quip, so she aimed for placating him instead. "Behave and I may let you blow something up." That seemed to perk Vik up a little.

"This won't be a fast trip. We're looking at a possible twelve hour shift. So make sure your rations are stocked and you've got plenty of water." Fynta grabbed her helmet from the table, signaling the briefings end. "Get intel, and get back to base to compare. Everyone clear on their jobs?" There was a mumble of consensus, Fynta never required formality. "Good, we move out just before sunset."

**Hullworks District**

Cormac yawned noisily in Fynta's ear as she and Vik traipsed through the sewer system below Corellia. Thankfully, this system hadn't gone down when the district lost power, so most of the time they were on dry pavement, instead of muddy water.

"Jorgan, do me a favor and shoot him," Vik snarled while stifling his own yawn. Cormac had started a chain reaction. "Maybe that'll make him less bored."

"I'd like to see you lay completely still, staring down a scope, for six hours, mate," Cormac retorted.

Had it really been six hours? It felt like more, and she and Vik had only covered half of the necessary ground. Add to that the fact that Corellia's rotation was backwards, making the standard time drastically different here. Ten in the morning, and it was pitch black outside.

"Amateurs," Jorgan smirked. Fynta couldn't see his face, but just _knew_ he was smirking. He'd told her a story once about his old squad waiting two weeks for a shot at a mark. The Cathar had finally gotten it, though, because as long as he didn't have to deal with the stupidities of others, Jorgan's patience was unending. Fynta wondered if she would have that kind of patience. Probably not.

"Any activity up there?" She asked. A loud crash echoed down the tunnel, and Vik swore. These tunnels were barely tall enough for her, much less a two and a half meter tall Weequay. That made the seventh time he'd hit his head. Fynta had started keeping count after the third, and could almost pinpoint his direction by now.

"We've seen two shift changes," Jorgan reported. "Haven't been able to identify a pattern yet."

"What do you mean?"

"He means, the first change happened after three hours, the second had barely hit the hour and a half mark when they switched," Cormac answered for him. "They seem to just flip a coin, or spin a dial, and whatever number it lands on, that's how long they are on duty."

Fynta considered this, silently grumbling. Rakton was the best for a reason. "Nothing but rubble and dwang down here," Vik grumbled, breaking the voluntary comm silence. "All entrances and exits have been blown from the inside for five clicks in every direction."

"Shift change," Jorgan announced. Fynta did the math, it was only two hours after the last one. Cormac might be right.

"Not in the back," Cormac replied. He and Jorgan had split up to watch both sides of the building to increase their odds at establishing a workable pattern. "My guys are still here."

Fynta had a thought. "How many personnel did intelligence report as landing on Corellia?"

There was a pause while Jorgan checked his HUD. "Roughly ten thousand."

Ten thousand. It sounded like a lot, until you accounted for the fact that they were spread across Corellia. It might not be as massive a city as Coruscant, but it was still a planet. Ten thousand didn't sound like enough to account for so many soldiers and shift changes, just to guard a bunch of smuggler ships. "Tell me about the shift changes, what happens?" Fynta turned and headed back for the exit while she listened.

"Imp one receives an order via ear piece, motions to his buddy, then they walk inside. Two seconds later, Imp two and his buddy come out to take over," Cormac answered.

"Genders?" Fynta asked.

"Male and female."

"Are there ever two females out at the same time?"

"I see where you're going with this," Jorgan broke in. Fynta could hear him breathing harder as he crawled to a new position. "I've got the female out front."

"Just blokes out back," Cormac added. "What are you two getting on about?"

"A hunch," Fynta answered. "Let me know when they change again. Vik, I think we are done. Let's rendezvous with the others."

"Gladly." Another bang and more swearing.

 _Eight_.

Fynta wasn't sure who was on which building, so she picked one at random, and began her ascent up the battered fire escape. They'd brought rappelling gear, but hadn't needed it so far. She peeked her head over the scaffolding and saw Jorgan's black boots sticking out from behind a chimney. "On your six, Jorgan. Don't shoot."

"Got it," he replied, still unmoved.

Fynta lowered herself to her stomach, then wormed her way towards the motionless Cathar. "I've got Vik in my sights," Cormac sniggered. "Permission to take the shot?"

"Denied."

"Come on, Boss. I'll only wing him." Apparently Vik responded with a not so polite gesture, because Cormac started laughing.

Tanno had chosen to stay on the ground this time, claiming head trauma from her making him crawl through the sewers. Fynta found it ironic that Jorgan was so at home up here on top of a high rise, but the idea of her driving an air car, or riding on a Tauntaun, was enough to make him break out in a cold sweat. She figured it wasn't heights after all, but unpredictable circumstances that got to him. And maybe her.

"Anything new?" Fynta asked, sighting up her rifle to get a better look at what they were dealing with.

"Not yet." Jorgan's helmet moved a fraction as he glanced her way. "You need a new weapon."

"I love this gun. It's never jammed, or misfired," Fynta argued.

"It's also wearing out," Jorgan countered. "That model wasn't meant to be used the way we use them. The barrel's going to blow out eventually."

Fynta narrowed her eyes. "You've got something else in mind, don't you?"

"Maybe," he replied, a hint of a smile in his voice. "Won't lie, I've been looking through the new kit, and some of it's pretty nice."

"Shift change," Cormac announced before Fynta could reply. It had been exactly an hour since the last one.

"Here too," Jorgan said. Fynta switched back to her scope.

"Focus on anything that can identify the individual," Fynta offered, watching as two individuals entered the building, soon to be replaced by fresh guards.

"The female's going inside," Jorgan stated. "The pocket on her left shoulder is frayed. Male has a slight limp." His eye for detail was going to be invaluable here.

Cormac took a little longer to answer. "One male has a white palm on his right glove. Can't get a fix on anything on the second."

They waited for a few beats while the new guards settled into position. Then Cormac's disbelieving exclamation burst over the line. "Are you shabbing kidding me?" Fynta smiled. Before long, she'd have the entire squad speaking Mando'a, or at least swearing in it. "The female just walked out the back, left shoulder pocket is frayed."

"I've got a white glove," Jorgan confirmed. "Fynta was right. We've been watching the same six Imps for nearly eight hours.

Fynta saw an opportunity and took it. "Line up your shots boys. Vik, you're my ground team. When we take out the guards, you storm the building. Heavy weapons fire if needed, but don't damage the ships." She gave everyone a chance to pick their targets, then lined up on the female. "Take."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> mir'sheb [MEER-sheb] smartass
> 
> Other Languages:
> 
> Dwang - a euphemism for excrement


	31. Collision Course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to heat up on Corellia as Havoc Squad draws closer to their target. Meanwhile, other lives are being drawn into their private war, and everyone is going to be changed before it's over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updates, the holidays and all that. Anyway, thanks again to DimiGex for making sure this chapter flowed. Hope you enjoy.

**D5-Mantis  
** **Orbit around Corellia**

"These contracts are from General Rakton himself," the Imperial commander flaunted via holo. "He's on the surface and wants the targets taken _alive_. Do you understand that, bounty hunter?" Cinlat raised a thin, white eyebrow in a warning clearly lost on the or'dinii the hunters were being forced to negotiate terms with. He continued to prattle on, undaunted by her startling gaze. "We need these key people to force the resistance to give up this futile fight against the inevitable." Pausing again, the man waited for a response, then became flustered when none came. "Just get it done."

The image vanished, and Verin chuckled. No one could intimidate Cinlat. She'd simply stare at them until they became a rambling idiot, or gave up altogether. Verin knew this from experience, usually ending up as the rambling idiot, and spilling his secrets ungracefully. That's what had happened with Fynta and her Cathar. Verin had every intent to get all of the facts first and gently break the news about his sister's poor choice in mates. Instead, he'd blurted out that Fynta was sleeping with the enemy exactly one day after Cinlat asked why he'd been so distracted. The woman had raised an eyebrow, said that wasn't surprising, and went on with her cup of 'caf.

Verin shook his head at his own stupidity, looking down on the small city-planet. He realized half of it was dark due to power outages, and he wondered what they would find down there. "Looks like Torman's not running the show anymore," Cinlat said, joining him at the window.

"Guess Rakton's got tired of losing," Verin offered, bracing a forearm against the bulkhead to lean a little further out over the planet. From what little he could piece together, Havoc Squad had made life difficult for the Imperial legend. He'd dug in on Corellia in the hopes of getting his hands on some important Republic information. Not that it really had anything to do with the bounty hunters. He and Cin were just here to earn a few credits.

Cinlat remained quiet on the matter, then spun on her heel. "I've got a hunch," she called over her shoulder when Verin made a questioning noise. Settling in front of the computer, Cinlat began flipping through wanted ads while Verin took the pilot's seat to start their descent onto the planet. This job was going to pay big, and since the planet was already in chaos, it shouldn't be too difficult to slip in and grab a few royals. The _alive_ part was annoying, but honestly, how much trouble could they be?

Verin landed The Mantis at the Imperial outpost and shut everything down. He hesitated before activating the security protocols, just realizing that Cinlat hadn't joined him on the bridge. When he found her, she was still pouring over the wanted files, sans helmet, which was unusual. Cinlat was the embodiment of efficiency, damn near Imperial in her standards for fluid operational procedures. So, the fact that they'd touched Corellian soil, and she wasn't waiting at the airlock, concerned Verin greatly.

Verin decided to stock up on a few snacks and headed to the kitchen while she finished whatever it was she was doing. Cinlat didn't even glance up when he passed, completely transfixed on her task, while munching on a piece of dried fruit. "You find anything yet?" He called up the stairs as he dug through the cupboards. Verin really wanted some warra nuts, and was sure he had seen a pack somewhere. The hunter stopped rummaging when he realized she hadn't answered. Leaning out of the small kitchen, he tried again. "Cin?"

"Yeah, I found something." Her tone made him instantly wary. So, Verin jogged up the stairs to look over his wife's shoulder. Cinlat had a new bounty pulled up, posted within the last few standard cycles. The client's name: General Rakton. The target: Havoc Squad. Conditions: Dead. The payment: an outrageous sum of credits.

Verin gaped at the image of his sister attached to the posting, one from her military file judging by her stoic expression. There was a photo of the Cathar attached, too. Captain Aric Jorgan. The rest were blank, no names or photos known. Verin rubbed both hands down his face as he straightened. "Fierfek _._ "

**Corellian Surface  
Captured Smuggler Ship Hangar**

Rakton had made utter fools of Havoc Squad, but Jorgan couldn't help but be impressed by the man's ingenuity. Fynta and Cormac had gone inside to check the ships and give General Garza the all clear, while he and Vik swept the perimeter one more time. However, when Jorgan rejoined the major, she was arguing with Locke.

"But those are civilian homes . . . there's no telling how many people are still hiding out there!" The CorSec officer flapped his arms angrily. "Look how long it's taken Coruscant to recover. We can't let that happen again. Not here."

Fynta's jaw worked side to side while she weighed his words, then squared her shoulders. "Coruscant was taken because all her soldiers were off world fighting in skirmishes. I'm sorry, Locke, but if we don't land those troops, _thousands_ will die." Her voice was as hard as durasteel, and Jorgan wondered what he'd missed. It didn't sound good. "I have to do what's best for the mission."

Locke lost it, jabbing a finger angrily at her through the holo, "The mission is to _protect_ the people of the _Republic_!"

Garza appeared, cutting off the rest of his rant. "Enough. The matter is settled. Return to base when you've eliminated the guards around the Imperial dropships, Major. Garza out."

Fynta heaved a sigh once the signal ended, glancing at Cormac. "The sooner we get more troops in, the sooner we can end this thing; the more lives we save."

"Doesn't mean we have to like it." Cormac snatched up his cannon and stomped out. Apparently privy to more of the conversation than Jorgan had been. There were few things that made the big man angry, and those usually aligned with Fynta's, who didn't appear to be any more pleased with their next objective.

The major slipped her helmet back on to retreat into seclusion. When Jorgan followed suit, his private line activated immediately. "I had to choose between snagging Imperial dropships to bring in more troops, or clear civilian buildings being firebombed," she explained, sounding subdued.

Jorgan understood now. Cormac's anger over the lives pointlessly snuffed out, and Fynta's guilt over choosing the mission over civilians. "I agree with your decision, sir." It wasn't always easy, but there were times when it was important for Fynta to be solely his commanding officer, not his wife. This was one of those moments. "The civilians are a diversionary tactic. Rakton must be planning something."

"My thoughts exactly. Still, there is going to be a heavy price for this one, Jorgan." Fynta's helmet swiveled towards Cormac. "Hopefully, we are ready to pay it."

Havoc lapsed into silence while they trudged through the darkened roads of Corellia, the street lights flickering unsteadily. Something chirped in Jorgan's helmet, and he realized there was a new connection icon that hadn't been there before. It was smaller than the others, hidden down in the bottom corner of his HUD. And it was flashing.

"Fyn'ika, its Verin." Jorgan recognized the voice, he just wasn't sure why it was coming from his helmet. Then he remembered seeing a similar icon in Fynta's back on Tatooine when she was reorganizing his HUD, one that he hadn't had access to. That seemed like such a long time ago.

"Not really a good time," Fynta answered. Now Jorgan was really confused. He glanced at the major, wondering if he should speak up. The last time he'd eavesdropped on a conversation had made her rightfully angry. This was a private line between Fynta and her outlaw brother, making the implications more serious.

"Fine, fine. But listen anyway," Verin continued. "You've pissed off some pretty powerful people, and there's a bounty, a big one, on Havoc Squad."

Fynta slowed a fraction, putting herself even with Jorgan. "Who authorized it?"

"Guy named Rakton. He's bad news ad'ika," Verin responded. A cold prickle ran the length of Jorgan's spine at the name. Somehow, Rakton had learned at least some of their identities, meaning Havoc Squad was now a threat to galactic security.

"I guess it's a good thing I'm here to kill him, then," Fynta snorted in reply. "No benefactor, no bounty."

" _Ah, shab. Don't tell me you're on Corellia."_

Fynta's helmet turned towards Jorgan, and he wondered if she knew he was listening. "Okay," she paused. "I won't."

"Mir'sheb," Verin spat. Jorgan knew exactly what that word meant, and despite this odd turn of events, he smiled. "Cinlat and I just landed. Rakton hired us for some live targets."

"He'll torture them," Fynta said, her tone as dark as Jorgan had ever heard it. "Then burn Corellia to the ground for its defiance. I'm taking him out Verin."

After a long pause, one filled only by the unfamiliar breathing of a man Jorgan had never met, Verin sighed. "Well, guess I'll help, then. Can't exactly take a paycheck from the guy who's trying to have my sister killed." There was the sound of muffled conversation, then Verin came back. "Fynta, you're going to be the death of me."

The line went dark.

Jorgan couldn't ignore this. He opened Fynta's personal comm as soon as the small icon light went out. "What was that?"

Vik and Cormac walked slightly ahead, keeping to the shadows of the predawn, completely unaware of the weird three-way conversation. Fynta's helmet turned towards Jorgan again when she answered. "Sorry, cyare. I forgot to mention that I gave you access to that line. I snuck it while updating our kit on the way over, then got distracted by Dorne's announcement about her article being published." Jorgan considered that a rather large oversight, but decided to keep it to himself for the moment.

"That comm line is encrypted," Fynta continued. "Cinlat, Verin, and I went in on it years ago. It allowed us to remain in contact from anywhere, but only for emergencies. It's a long distance commlink, I suppose you could say." Fynta chuckled, although Jorgan wasn't entirely sure what about this whole situation was funny. "The only drawback is, everyone who has access can hear what you say, that line makes a lousy personal comm."

Jorgan had heard of these links; they were incredibly expensive. Then, a thought struck him. "That's how you found out about Jaxo. This thing works in hyperspace?"

"Text only," Fynta replied. "But yes. Cinlat picked up Ava's transmission and forwarded it to me."

"So, Rakton knows who Havoc Squad is?" Jorgan asked, changing the topic to the more pressing problem, but planning to return to this one later. They were a black ops squad, but lately, their targets had been annoyingly public.

Fynta shook her helmet. "Only you and me, apparently. Verin found a surveillance image from Belsavis attached to the file, along with our names and ranks." She paused and snickered. "Official holos too." Jorgan groaned. He hated the image the military had chosen for his file last time it had been updated, now it was being flashed all over the galaxy. Perfect.

They walked in silence, keeping a vigilant eye out for potential snipers on the roofs, or choke points that could lead to ambushes. Jorgan spared his wife a glance before asking his next question. "So, we've got bounty hunters on our side now?"

"Seems that way." Fynta sighed. "I have no idea what his plan is, though. Guess I'll contact him again when we move on the Bastion. Verin knows I can't share information, but I can make sure he stays clear of the carnage."

The squad line flashed for attention, and Cormac's voice filled Jorgan's helmet. "Hey you two, enough sweet nothings. We're here."

Fynta and Jorgan joined the other two at the entrance to the Imperial hangar. "Before we go in," Fynta started. "You should know that I've been contacted by an associate, who informs me that General Rakton has put a bounty on our heads. A nice stack of creds." She paused to check the charge pack on her weapon. "We should make sure to thank him when we meet him."

**Incorporation Islands**

Going into a forced hostage situation, Zolah Holran would have preferred having Kaliyo with her, instead of the still wet behind the ears Ensign Temple. However, her Rattataki sidekick was currently on trial for all sorts of nefarious charges back on Dromund Kaas. Zolah wondered with a smile if the woman was still spitting and screaming oaths about killing the agent when she escaped. Truth be told, Zolah was rather surprised Kaliyo hadn't shown up on Corellia already.

Just as she was about to introduce herself to the target, Zolah's personal holo chimed. Few people in the galaxy had that frequency, and she tried to answer it whenever the chance arose. Temple looked at her briefly, then astutely averted her eyes to study the still dark cityscape. It was beautiful from the penthouse balcony, the fires lending a soft glow to the broken horizon.

Zolah pulled the small device from her pocket, a simple one that could be replaced easily because her soon to be captures were likely going to smash it. The image of an older human male appeared, his beard close cropped and head bald. "Ah, agent, I was hoping to catch you."

"General Rakton, what a pleasant surprise," Zolah responded cheerfully, maintaining an air of professionalism. This man was one of the most important people in her life, though few knew their connection, of course. She'd heard he was on Corellia through the hubbub of Intelligence before they'd been dissolved. Zolah didn't like the way her heart had sputtered when she'd overheard one of the techs mentioning that General Arkos Rakton was requesting more troops.

"News has reached me about your . . . former employment. A shame, really. Your mother would roll in her grave," the man said. Zolah's mother had been a slave turned watcher, a rather good one from what the cipher understood. The man has seen something in his servant, endorsing the Chiss woman because her brilliance would strengthen the Empire. After her death, Rakton had extended that support to Zolah.

General Rakton stood with impeccable posture, as befitting a man of his station, and Zolah instinctively corrected her own. Just so she didn't shame him with her adopted slouch. "Yes, well, change comes for us all."

"Indeed." Arkos paused to sign the datapad that was thrust into the field of view, then handed it off again. "We'll be making a final push soon, wiping the Republic scum from this planet. I caught wind that you might be here, and thought to call before the chaos began." Zolah smiled at the familiar words. He had never ceased to contact her any time they were in the same sector. One day, she would ask him how he knew, but for now, she enjoyed the mystery of it.

The man cleared his throat. "I trust the-issue we discussed has been resolved?"

Red eyes widened as Zolah considered his statement. "Are you saying that you had something to-" she cut off before her surprise could endanger his tenuous hold on power. "Yes, sir. Quite. Thank you." Not long after Darth Zorrid's threat to Zolah's life, the insane Sith woman had been decimated by the other Dark Council members. Could Rakton have really been responsible for setting them against her. Would he do such a thing for a mere Chiss alien?

Arkos's eyes crinkled around the edges as he smiled. "Good. Good. Well, I must be off. I've got a war to run, after all. Take care of yourself, Zolah. Perhaps we'll grab some tea when this is over."

"I would love to, be safe." The image faded, leaving Zolah smiling at the device, and Ensign Temple physically bursting with unasked questions. Questions that would have to be answered in the safety of their own ship. Had she brought Vector along, no doubt he would have been unable to contain his curiosity, and Kaliyo would have asked for a favor. So, in hindsight, it was probably a stroke of luck that the uptight, Imperial ensign had tagged along instead.

"Alright, Raina, it is time." The dark skinned woman nodded and took a shaky breath. Zolah put a hand on her arm. "You've trained for this."

Besides, Raina was a pretty human. Hunter wouldn't want to mark her up too badly. He'd focus his aggression on the Chiss pain in his ass, and that was something Zolah was confident she could handle.

**The Gilded Descent**

Elara sat with head in hands on the bench outside General Garza's office, her helmet secured to give her a modicum of privacy. She hadn't been so busy for such an extended period of time, in a while. She was exhausted. Not to mention the agony of failing to save them all. The wounded were an endless stream of red that had begun blurring together, so the medic forced herself to take a break.

Elara was nearly asleep when she felt a hand rest on her knee. Then, her helmet was lifted off her head, and she squinted into the neon lights of the casino to see Balic squatting in front of her. "You okay there, doll?" His dark brows furrowed in concern.

"Just tired," Elara assured him. "When did you get back? I must have nodded off." She'd been listening to their chatter, and the last thing that the medic remembered was Fynta saying something about a bounty being put on Havoc Squad. She wondered if Balic had tried contacting her after they'd discussed the pros and cons of Fynta's decision to go after the drop ships instead of the civilians. Elara hoped she hadn't abandoned her husband to his guilt.

"Just now, come on." Balic hauled Elara to her feet, pulling her into the general's makeshift office. His arm blocked her forward progression almost immediately. "Ah, shab."

Locke and Fynta were nearly face to face. Once he was sure she wouldn't rush in, Balic lowered his arm and stepped forward next to Vik and Jorgan, while Locke railed at their commanding officer. "You had a choice. You chose to let those people die!"

Fynta closed the distance and lowered her voice. "Taking out Rakton will save _millions_ of lives. Or have you forgotten that?" The atmosphere suddenly felt electrified as the arguing died abruptly. Jorgan and Vik took a step away from their commanding officer, both being fully aware of what that tone meant. Balic's shoulders tensed with a readiness to dive in, should Locke's accusation provoke Fynta to physical violence.

General Garza took notice of the soldiers' reactions and slapped her palm against the table. "Enough. We need to get on with the operation." Locke and Fynta glared at one another for a few more seconds, before both retreated to a respectful distance. Garza nodded. "General Rakton means to assault the Republic and resistance positions in this sector. He's deployed a massive infantry force."

Locke stared at the major as he spoke. "I'll help you set up this ambush in Labor Valley, after that . . . I'm out."

"Has Rakton found out we're here?" Fynta asked, pulling her attention back to the general, ignoring the CorSec officer's threat.

"We don't believe so," Garza answered. "This appears to be a standard infantry sweep, not any kind of specialized hunting party."

Locke pulled up a file on his datapad and tossed it to Fynta. "We've got three resistance cells hiding out in Labor Valley, all ready and willing to help out. Their coordinates are here. When you meet each cell, tell them _Blazing Spear is Go_. They'll know what to do."

Fynta caught the device with a sigh, scanning over the information before answering. "My squad will make it happen." Locke snorted and crossed his arms, earning him a sharp glare from Garza. The rest of the briefing continued without interruption, though the tension never lessened.

Once outside the office, Fynta called Havoc into a huddle. "Let's split up and make this an expedient mission. Dorne and Cormac, I want you to take Oudon's cell." Elara's datapad buzzed to inform her of the incoming information. "Yuun and Jorgan, here are Sherro's. Vik, you and I are tracking down Hendrick."

"You got it, boss," the Weequay responded, no doubt still exhilarated by the threat of confrontation during the briefing.

Fynta ignored him, as per usual. "Everyone has their orders. Before we disembark though, Dorne, do me a favor and pass out stims." Everyone knew the major hated synthetic stimulants, but it had been nearly ten hours between rest periods, and there didn't appear to be an end in sight.

Fynta continued, while Elara made sure everyone had the proper doses, and that their first aid kits were complete. "Do not use this unless absolutely necessary. I don't want anyone crashing when the fighting starts. Got it?"

There was a chorus of _yes sir,_ and Fynta slipped her helmet back on. "Move out."

**Axial Park**

The ambush had gone exactly as planned, fairly boring by Havoc standards. Right up until the Sith showed up. Fynta had been on the floor, leading the attack, when the chakaar came out of nowhere. The major had done what the major always did; she blew him to hell by planting a sticky grenade on his boot. No doubt Jorgan had railed at her in private for her recklessness. Again. Everyone else had been relieved that beskar lived up to its reputation, because Fynta seemed determined to test its every limit. This time, all she came away with was one nasty cut and a few bruises.

Havoc had taken a tram to the new Republic safe house and, Cormac savored the experience. Something about it reminded him of being a kid, sneaking on board mining cars. Granted he'd been up to no good back then, but the thrill was the same. Corellia had some of the most impressive railways he'd ever seen, and with the landscape zipping past at those speeds, it was almost easy to overlook the signs of war.

On their return, Garza informed Havoc that the extra troops would be arriving in roughly four hours, and gave the worn out commandos a quiet room with some blankets on the floor to catch a few winks. They'd all been up for, well, Cormac had lost track of how many hours; but it was more than what was considered healthy if the general was sending them to their room.

Elara curled up next to Cormac, her armor clanking against his, and fell asleep immediately. She'd been running just as hard, if not harder, and had the emotional stress added on top. The spunky medic might not show it, but he knew his woman well enough to see the slump in her shoulders and knew that those deaths would haunt her for a while. Balic tighten his arms, the only way he could protect her from seeing their faces in her dreams.

"Stop squirming," Jorgan grumbled in the dark. The Cathar was tending to a deep gash on Fynta's upper arm, courtesy of the Sith from the ambush. Elara had offered, but Jorgan sent her to get some rest, claiming that his better eyesight would enable him to see in the dark. Only, it didn't sound like Fynta was cooperating.

With all the lights off, the familiar sound of Vik's snoring on a couch, and Yuun's buzzing in the corner, made the atmosphere almost relaxing. Balic was nearing sleep, when Fynta growled. "Are you done yet?" Cormac tried not to laugh, or let his imagination run away with him about the numerous things the commanders could be doing in the dark to produce those words.

"Blast it, woman," the Cathar groused. "You've become a Sith magnet."

"Must be my charmin-ouch!" She hissed.

"There, done."

Cormac heard someone's armor smack the wall and slide down to the floor. Either Fynta had punched Jorgan, or they'd finally decided to turn in for the night. Cormac was betting on the first.

**Coronet Junction  
** **Shrona Bal-li's Warrens**

"It just doesn't sit right, ousting these people like this," Verin complained as they traversed the musty, underground homes of the local intelligent wildlife. The Selonians were large, rodent looking creatures, who lived in warrens beneath the city world.

The rumor was that the Imps were planning to use the tunnels that ran beneath Corallia to move large numbers of troops. The two hunters had taken it upon themselves to make sure that didn't happen. Verin might not have any love for the Republic, but he'd do what he could to protect his little sister. Even if it meant displacing the local populace. That, and they were getting paid to do it. Granted, Cinlat had convinced that arrogant Moff that it was to hinder the Republic. They couldn't be faulted for the man's stupidity, unless the the Imperials figured out that Cinlat had intercepted the message from one of the generals outlining their plans.

"Would you rather have Rakton come up behind them and shove a detonator up Havoc Squad's shebs?" Cinlat asked as she examined the walls. She'd been incredibly touchy these last couple of days, snapping at everything, then claiming it was because she was tired. Maybe it was time to consider retiring, granted, he'd have to put it in a way that didn't make it sound like it was because of her age.

"Of course not, but that doesn't mean—" Verin cut off when the tip of a long barreled rifle protruded from the shadows to rest against Cinlat's helmet. She held her hands out to the side, and allowed the Selonian to step forward and take her blasters. Another one brought a weapon to bear on Verin, but didn't move to disarm him.

"What do you do here?" The first guard hissed. His voice was raspy and guttural, and if it hadn't been for the translation program in Verin's helmet, these negotiations would have been over by now. Likely with one of them dead. The Selonian was a large, strapping male. Probably one of their breeders, and wore finely worked metal plates to protect his vital organs. Two other males, smaller by comparison, flanked him. Simple soldiers, if Verin had to guess.

"We didn't come to cause you harm," Cinlat answered, her helmet tipping slightly towards the breeder. "We have a proposition for you."

"We seek no proposition from you. We do fine on our own," the male spat again.

"Really?" Cinlat moved without warning, knocking the barrel of the weapon away, while pulling her holdout blaster from her boot. Verin unslung his rifle and trained it on the nearest guard. The Selonian soldiers shrieked and stepped back; only the breeder stood his ground.

"I will break you for this!" He screeched with a snarl, sucking in a breath of air and straightening to his full height. Which the hunter had to admit, was impressive.

Verin lowered his rifle, an act of goodwill, and nodded at the closest guard. "No need. You want the Empire gone, right?" His question was met by the glare of three pairs of beady, black eyes. "Then hear us out, because we've got the same goal in mind."

Long minutes of silence followed, until Cinlat had finally had enough. "Listen, either you help us, or we do it ourselves, and a lot of your people suffer." She walked over and snatched her blasters back from one of the smaller males, and shoved them into her holsters. "Either way, we're shutting these warrens down."

The breeder clicked angrily at his soldiers before returning his attention to Cinlat. Selonians were a matriarchal society, so naturally, he deferred to her. Verin didn't mind, Cinlat had whipped him years ago. "We will hear you out," the male said. "Then you will leave this place and not return."

"Fine by me," Cinlat agreed. She and the breeder began planning the best ways to collapse the warrens, while the two soldiers scurried off to start the evacuation, and Verin took stock of their explosives.

Four hours later, Cinlat stood at the entrance of one of the tunnels with a detonator in her hand. "Well, we have officially abandoned our contract, Verin." She sighed and pressed the button. Earth and rubble filled the warrens, further hindering General Rakton's movements around Corellia. Once Darth Tormen figured it out, there would be hell to pay, but they planned to be off planet by then. Still, Verin knew that wasn't what was troubling his wife. She sighed again, then tossed the detonator into the dirt. "Sure hope this was worth the hit to our reputation."

**Axial Park  
** **Republic Safe House**

Fytna gave a start when someone banged on the door, then joined in the chorus of curses when the light flipped on. Even Dorne got in on it, resorting to Huttese, which would normally have tickled Fynta, were she not trying to force her eyes open to see what the shab was going on.

"The general is asking for you," a male voice droned. Fynta rubbed her eyes and checked her chorno. Two hours of sleep, and she felt like osik.

Climbing to her feet, the major stumbled out of the room, adjusting her plates, and nearly collided with the man outside. He wore a green robe and a lightsaber on his hip. Fynta's vision cleared by the time she made it up to his face, where she found raised eyebrow when she openly balked. "A Jedi?" A quick look around showed more like him, all in matching robes. "Lots of Jedi."

"We are the Green Jedi. We belong to, and fight for, Corellia," he answered passively.

Fynta's mind still clung stubbornly to the fog of sleep, making it more difficult to decipher his meaning. "So, you're a part of the resistance?"

"We protect the royal families," the man sniffed. Ah. So they were like Jedi mercs. Or maybe bodyguards, but only for royalty. "The general wishes to speak with you. Now. I have other business to attend to." The, _merc-who-thought-himself-a-Jedi_ turned and walked away, and Fynta decided to go back for her helmet instead of immediately following the green brigade. Generally speaking, she found Jedi confusing; these were just odd, though.

Fynta noted a huddle of the green robes, all coalesced around a central figure. A Togruta, if the purple-banded tips she saw above the mass were montrals. It must be a male, because that would be one hell of a large female otherwise. She wondered briefly what that many Force users were up to, then decided she didn't want to know.

Garza's makeshift office was packed with soldiers, but Havoc Squad still managed to stand out in their sleek black and white, instead of standard issued blue, or SpecForce orange. No one commented on the differences, though Fynta was sure there was plenty of it going on under those helmets. It was difficult to remain still while having a conversation, some mastered it better than others. If the guy next to Fynta elbowed her one more time, she was going to yank his helmet off just to see what was so shabbing funny.

As it happened, the general chose that moment to begin. "Welcome everyone, the Safecrackers and Fifty-third armored have already touched down, and the extra drop ships Havoc Squad captured are bringing in the Eighty-first infantry as we speak. Our strategy has unfolded perfectly. Now, it's time to put the final phase into motion. Major."

Fynta took the recognition as permission to join the general at the holomap, although, she had to admit to being a little excited about seeing Lieutenant Coria again. She really liked that Zabrak, he was so enthusiastic about everything, a lot like Cormac. Captain Marshal was a good man too, though more subdued.

The next two hours blurred into a painfully detailed briefing about jamming Rakton's comms and breaching the Bastion's main gate to make way for the heavy artillery. Fynta's heart pounded as her main objective neared. This was it, she was finally going to kill that ge'hutuun. As the meeting wound down, Fynta leapt at the opportunity to put it to rest. "Consider it done, General."

"Good," Garza nodded to her datapad. "Scouts have spotted a crawler operating at these coordinates with a minimal escort. It's your best bet."

Fynta ticked off the plan of attack. "Plant the jammers, hijack the crawler, and secure the gate controls to open the front door." She flashed a smile at the soldiers milling around, already getting caught up in the thrill of the hunt. "No problem."

Havoc Squad found a quiet corner after being dismissed, and Fynta pulled up a map of the sector on her datapad. "Here's the plan: Vik and Cormac, set an ambush for the crawler here and here," she used her stylus to mark the positions, which transferred live updates to the rest of the squad. "Be careful not to damage the thing, and don't spring the trap until I give you the all clear. Once Rakton's communications go down, we'll only have a small window to get through that gate." Fynta paused, making sure she had Vik's undivided attention. "If you take the crawler before we're ready, they'll know we're coming." Both men nodded, neither making wisecracks for a change.

So, Fynta moved on. "Yuun and I will plant jammers at the North tower. Dorne and Jorgan, you've got the south. We need to activate them simultaneously, so keep your comms open. Everyone understand your role?" The soldiers nodded and mumbled in agreement. They all were feeling the pressure from such a tight timetable, but that was also when Havoc was at its best.

_Just a little longer,_ Fynta told herself. When she looked at Jorgan, the memory of his promise echoed in the back of her mind. _We'll kill him together._ Yes, Fynta decided they would do it together, no matter the cost, because Jorgan had suffered just as greatly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> or'dinii [Ohr-DEE-nee] moron, fool
> 
> ad'ika [ah-DEE-kah] little one - also used informally to adults much like lads or guys,
> 
> mir'sheb [MEER-sheb] smartass
> 
> ge'hutuun [ge-hoo-TOON] bandit, villain, petty thief - can also mean a serious criminal you have no respect for - abusive


	32. End of a Legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing lasts forever, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrapping up Corellia was always my favorite because it meant I got to get off of that stupid map. Anyway, a very special thank you to DimiGex for helping me get feels right.

**The Bastion  
** **Automated Approach**

"Are we there yet?" Balic complained, leaning over the driver's seat where Vik was wrestling with the steering column of the massive crawler. They'd ambushed the soldiers inside, then used the vehicle to sneak past the main gates. Jorgan watched the pair apprehensively. So far, things had gone as smoothly as any battle could. Given the fact that Havoc missions rarely went according to plan, he was feeling apprehensive about their odds.

"Don't make me pull this dump over," Vik countered, jamming the hand brake forward and bringing the crawler to a grinding halt. A wall of Imperial soldiers awaited Havoc Squad, their bolts pinging off the armored hull of the military vehicle. "Guess we aren't incognito anymore," Vik chuckled.

The sound of Republic soldiers returning fire from behind the crawler drew Jorgan's attention towards the rear exit ramp. "We should join them," the Cathar muttered, hefting his rifle. "It wouldn't be fair for the infantry to have all the fun." Someone snickered, and he was almost certain it was Fynta. The prospect of a firefight affected Jorgan differently with each battle, but there were always only two outcomes. Automatic fear or overzealous anticipation; he felt the latter this time.

"Hell yeah!" Vik grabbed his rifle and leapt over driver's seat. He hit the ramp release and pounded down into the fray. Jorgan followed, along with the rest of the squad. Once on the ground, the sound of heavy engines pulled his attention towards one of the requisitioned drop ships delivering yet another wave of Republic soldiers. They rappelled in behind the Imperial line of defense. It didn't take long to end the conflict once reinforcements arrived.

Fynta removed her helmet to greet the huddle of Republic infantry. The soldiers snapped to attention, which she immediately waved off. While the major answered a few logistical questions, Jorgan started getting everyone rounded up. He flashed her comm once he had the commanders organized. "Major. Everyone's assembled and ready for action," he reported at her approach. This was the kind of thing he was good at, managing the crowd and killing Imperials.

Lieutenant Coria, commander of the Safecrackers winked at Fynta. "Good of you to invite us out for the main event this time, Major." The Zabrak looked around with a grin. "This will be the biggest fortress we've busted yet."

Captain Marshall of the 81st infantry squadron, and the Advozse commander of the 53rd armored platoon, were marginally more subdued, though no less eager. The Advozse introduced himself as Lesher, and had brought an impressive array of heavily armed walkers. Jorgan noted how Fynta eyed the machines when she thought no one was looking and vowed to do everything in his power to keep her out of them.

The conversation quickly turned towards strategy. As the highest ranking soldier on the field, Garza had made it clear that Fynta was responsible for directing the operation. It was the largest scaled mission the major had taken on as commander, and while Jorgan could see the stress behind her eyes, he doubted the others saw more than her cool confidence. She'd weighed each suggestion carefully, taking her time to consider all angles for once. After discussing Rakton's defenses and the numerous methods of attack, Fynta declared that they had a plan.

"Coria, Marshall, you're up for the infantry," Fynta nodded towards the commanders, pointing to the narrow paths that flanked the building on the holomap Jorgan held. "Captain Lesher, your platoon can have the Imp armor."

"We will carve through them easily, Major!" The Advozse raised a fist dramatically, pulling a shout from his men who were watching from a distance.

"I guess that leaves the automated defenses for you, Major. Enjoy those," Coria chuckled. Fynta had chosen to lead a small group through the underground passages to dismantle the automated turrets and traps. Then, her team would sneak into the fortress from beneath.

Jorgan had a thought as Fynta began to wrap up the meeting. "If Rakton's half the commander they say, he'll send speeders full of commandos to flank us as soon as we commit to the assault. That's what I'd do, at least." The Cathar commented, rubbing his chin in thought, before pointing to the map. "We'd better keep most of Havoc here, with a few infantry to cover the assault forces. We can regroup once we're inside the main complex."

Fynta nodded. "Good thinking, Captain." When she returned her attention to the commanders, there was no hint of apprehension in her expression. "Alright, you all know your jobs, and you know what's at stake. If we fail here, the entire Republic is on the line. Are we going to let that happen?"

"Sir, no, sir!" The three men replied in cadence. As far as speeches went, Fynta usually kept it simple, but there was no denying the spike of adrenaline in the atmosphere. Jorgan was no less affected. His heart pounded, and every detail snapped into sharp focus as his body prepared for the fight. With his system so overloaded, it was nearly impossible to stand still, but years of training controlled his movements.

When Fynta gave the command, everyone moved with purpose to relay their orders. Everyone except Havoc Squad. They still needed to know who was going where. It made more sense for Jorgan to stay back. After all, he was second in command, but the Cathar felt that he had a score to settle with Rakton too. Not only had that stunt on the asteroid prison nearly killed them all, it had almost torn him and Fynta apart, which was something the he took personally.

"Alright. A two man team can take out those traps," Fynta began as the rest of the squad circled around. "Yuun, I want you here to control the gate and automated air defenses, do _not_ let their slicers regain control of them. Dorne, you're staying too. I'm not going to kid myself about the casualties we'll endure. They will need you more than us." Both science officers nodded. "Cormac, Vik, you're the heavy guns. If it's in Imperial colors, it doesn't set foot inside this compound. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Cormac replied with a salute.

Fynta looked at Jorgan next, and he fought down the thrill of excitement at the realization that there was only one job left open to him. "You're with me, Captain."

They'd promised one another months ago that Rakton would pay for what he'd done. Jorgan had sworn to be by Fynta's side when she took the shot, but he'd never been sure how much of that day she remembered. It was something neither spoke of. Somehow, Jorgan managed to maintain his stoic tone when he responded. "Looking forward to it, sir."

"I thought you might." A mischievous glint entered the major's eyes, and for a split second, they were husband and wife again, not soldiers. Then, the moment passed, and Fynta looked around him to where Elara had begun planning an approach to triaging the wounded. "One more thing, Dorne, you're in command."

"Very good, sir," Elara replied without glancing up. If he and Fynta were killed, Dorne would assume command. Jorgan approved of the decision, she'd make a good officer; strict, but fair.

Once they were out of sight of the other soldiers, Fynta put a hand on Jorgan's chestplate to stop him. She looked up at him with warm eyes, and it took all of his self control to resist pulling her in for one more kiss before descending into the bowels of the building. "You ready for this, soldier?"

Jorgan forced a tight lipped smile. He knew what she was thinking. It was impossible not to consider the what-if's, but for once, he was determined to try. "After we're finished here, we'll take that vacation we talked about," he promised.

Fynta opened her mouth to reply, but snapped it shut again when the walkers started up, their gears grinding loudly as they stretched their metal legs. Meanwhile, Coria and Marshall got their troops into formation, signaling over the comms when they were ready to move out. Fynta took a deep breath, spared Jorgan one last look, then lowered her helmet onto her head. "It's time."

**The Bastion  
** **Command Center**

The fighting had been brutal. Captain Lesher had reported the loss of two walkers and roughly a dozen men in their wake. Fynta had kept her comms on receive only, listening to the battle that raged above. While they fought with blasters, she and Jorgan worked through a maze of automated turrets and oil slicks positioned over pipes that ignited if a sensor was tripped. Fynta's boot had caught on fire once, and it had taken both of them to put the thing out. After four hours of hard combat, things were beginning to wind down, which meant Fynta's job had just begun.

The two Havoc commandos were just entering the Command Center when Coria came on the line. "Cleanup is done, heading to the rendezvous." Fynta and Jorgan stood in the midst of scrapped battle droids. Both were bruised and exhausted from traversing the Bastion's minefields, but her heart pounded with the predatory excitement that accompanied closing in on a target.

"Right behind you, Lieutenant," Dorne added. "All walking wounded should gather at the western wall for evaluation." Fynta heard the chaos in the background as men barked orders and equipment moved before Elara's comms cut off.

Cormac broke in next, and Fynta swore she could hear the sound of his hand cannon echoing through the hallways. "Just finishing up here and we'll be on the way." He and Vik had come in behind to sweep the corridors left open by Fynta and Jorgan. From the sound of it, a few stragglers had sought sanctuary in the tunnels.

"Eighteen." Vik taunted over the comm. Fynta glanced at Jorgan, and the Cathar put a hand to his faceplate while his helmet shook side to side.

"That doesn't count, Vik. He was alrea—" Cormac cut the call halfway through the word, opening the comms for the others to check in. Fynta couldn't resist the chuckle that escaped her lips.

Jorgan sighed heavily. "Leave it to those two to turn this whole thing into a game."

Fynta patted the Cathar's chest plate as he passed by, then followed. "You're just mad that you didn't think of it first." Jorgan muttered something distinctly unprofessional under his breath before shouldering his weapon.

Aric stopped abruptly, grabbing Fynta's arm to get her attention. His helmet tilted to the side, and Fynta knew from years of experience that meant the Cathar had heard something. After a couple more seconds, her private line clicked on. "I make three distinct voices."

"Split up," Fynta replied, continuing over her husband's inhale of protest. "Get to a sniping position. I don't want to risk him getting away." Jorgan stared at her for a long moment before nodding.

Fynta started forward again, while Aric broke off to climb the maintenance ladder that led to the rafters. The voices he'd picked up became louder a few meters in. Eventually, she found General Rakton himself, flanked by two elite guards. Fynta recognized their uniforms and knew that these particular soldiers didn't play by the rules. They were trained to kill and resist torture. Fynta was fairly certain that independent thought had been programmed out of them. Rakton's elite guards were drones, following the will of their master without question.

"They cannot see that the Republic is run by corrupt and weak-minded leaders that are dragging them down," Rakton complained to his guards while he sliced into the Bastion's main computer. "The Republic will fall, either by the hands of the Empire or by the weight of its own decadence. The end is inevitable. Why do they prolong their suffering?" Fynta didn't necessarily disagree with the man. She just really wanted to kill the chakaar for all the trouble he'd caused her throughout the year.

Stopping once she had a good vantage, Fynta radioed Jorgan. "Are you in position?" Her chosen cover was a small computer terminal, probably belonging to some tech who only saw the light of the sun when he crawled away from his desk. The surface was cluttered with wrappers and half empty mugs of 'caf.

"Sighting up. I assume you want the honors of taking Rakton out yourself?" The hint of a smirk in Jorgan's voice made Fynta smile.

"You know me so well, riduur." Fynta took a deep breath, held it, and then let it slide from her lungs. "On my count, I'll break cover, and you drop the guards." Despite her desire for revenge, Fynta wanted this over quickly. For all her recklessness, she trusted her gut, and it warned her that something was off about this situation.

"Got it."

Fynta counted back from five, then swung from behind the console to open fire on the guards in time with Jorgan. The two men stumbled back, one of them hit the ground, then got back up. "Shab," Fynta hissed. "That better not be beskar."

The guards lived up to their reputation, returning fire without hesitation. Their rounds hit Fynta like a rancor, each shot making breathing more difficult. One struck her pelvis. Her entire left leg went numb and she stumbled forward with a grunt. Fynta braced herself on the terminal and kept firing.

One of the guards' heads snapped back, and this time he stayed down. His partner looked at the fallen comrade, then readjusted his aim to the upper levels. Fynta forced herself into a hobbled run and drove her shoulder into the guard's stomach. They toppled together, landing with Fynta sitting on top.

Using the butt of her rifle, Fynta struck the seals on his helmet with four heavy blows before it finally popped open. She ejected her gauntlet blade and jammed it into the opening. The guard's adrenaline fueled panic flung Fynta to the side as he desperately tried to plug the hole in his neck. Pushing herself upright, the major stumbled after Rakton, leaving the man to writhe in a pool of his own blood.

Fynta had made it around the corner before nearly tripping over the prone form of Rakton. "So this is how it ends," the great Imperial strategist greeted her, each word a gasp. One of her bolts had penetrated his thin armor, and it sounded like he had a punctured lung. Fynta knew how that felt, yet couldn't find it in herself to pity him. The man pushed onto one knee, clutching at his chest. "A lifetime of service to the greatest cause in galactic history." He made an attempt to suck in some more air, then grimaced. "So, what happens now? A simple execution? Or will the last civilized man be paraded through the streets of Coruscant as a trophy for your ignorant masses?"

What happened next had never been a question in Fynta's mind. Rakton was a patriot, which made him dangerous because he'd never betray the empire, even with torture. The man before her had killed thousands of soldiers and civilians across the galaxy. Fynta leveled her rifle barrel between his eyes, vaguely aware of Jorgan's approaching footsteps. Rakton had tried to kill her soldiers too, her aliit. That insult couldn't go unpunished.

"Now, you die." A flicker of fear past behind the general's eyes just before she pulled the trigger. It was over in less than a second. General Rakton slumped to the floor, no longer a threat.

Jorgan removed his helmet and knelt down to examine the body. "We got him," the Cathar breathed. "It's finally over." Aric looked up at Fynta, and all that guilt for the beating she'd given him after the A-77 fiasco washed over her again, making her dizzy.

The sound of running boots caused both soldiers to spin and level their weapons on the advancing threat. Coria slid to a halt with his hands up. "Major! Serious heat's coming in, the scanners are completely off the—whoa!" Fynta lowered her weapon at the same time the Zabrak noticed the corpse. "Was that him?"

Fynta suddenly felt numb and exhausted. "General Rakton's been neutralized," she responded on automatic.

"Wow. He's dead. This is going to change everything." Coria shook himself, forcing his attention back to her. Fynta, on the other hand, was having trouble focusing and figured a long, hot shower would solve all her problems. "The Imps have figured out that Rakton's off comms. They're sending everything they've got this way. It's too much to handle, sir," Coria continued. "With respect, I think we'd better bug out. Everyone has their evac points set, you just have to give the word."

"You're cleared to evacuate, Lieutenant," Fynta managed. Evacuation meant going home, and that was where her bed was located, which was pretty much all that mattered at the moment. The shower could wait.

"Understood, sir. I'll let everyone know right away. It's been a real honor, Major. I—Major?" Fynta saw Coria lunge forward and threw her arms out to catch him. She felt herself collide with the Zabrak, and the room tipped. "Sir, you're bleeding. Major?"

"Fynta?" Jorgan's face appeared above her. The pressure in her left leg increased, while his face remained stern and composed. He spoke without looking away from his work, and Fynta worried that Coria was injured, until he vanished.

There was a vague impression of weightlessness, and the room spun. A hum of a conversation lingered just out of earshot, followed by the startlingly clear sound of Jorgan's heavy breathing by her ear. When he spoke, the words were a rumble that she felt, rather than understood. "Hold on." His voice had never been so calm. Fynta knew that should bother her, but couldn't figure out why. "Dorne?"

" _Waiting on the shuttle, sir."_

Fynta wanted to make sure all the men were getting out okay, but couldn't seem to convey that wish to anyone around her. Meanwhile, Jorgan continued talking to someone, encouraging them to stay awake, and Fynta's gut clenched with fear. Someone was hurt badly, she could only hope it wasn't Cormac.

"Here, sir." Fynta was almost certain the voice belonged to the big man, meaning he was okay. Her vantage shifted, then something hard pressed into her stomach as the ground slid away beneath her. The new position sent a shock of pain through Fynta's body that dulled to a steady ache. Jorgan filled her vision, and the image of him bend double with hands on his knees drove everything else from her mind. She wanted to go back for him, but forward seemed the only option. Nausea washed over her, and Fynta squeezed her eyes shut to stop the world from upending her.

When she opened them again, Dorne hovered above, removing Fynta's helmet and flashing a bright light in her eyes. "Sir, can you hear me?"

_Of course I can hear you._ Fynta tried to shy away from the light, then decided it was too much effort to argue with the stubborn medic and let her eyes drift shut again. She submitted to the woman's bony fingers that pressed against her neck, then into her hip between the joints of her armor.

"How is she?" Jorgan asked. His voice jarred Fynta back to consciousness, and she fought to locate him. The Cathar sat on a bench across from her, leaning forward. Every detail snapped into sharp clarity, from the furrowed brows, to the way his facial patterns shifted in concern. His eyes swept over her, never lingering in one place, until he sucked in a breath and turned away completely.

A shadow passed over Fynta, her chest plate, as Elara handed it off to Cormac. That was when she finally realized something was terribly wrong. She no longer felt Elara's hands probing her torso, she couldn't feel anything, except lethargy and cold. Elara and Cormac's voices faded, while darkness crowded Fynta's vision. She watched Aric, willing him to meet her eyes. When he turned back, relief washed over her despite the light blue orbs drifting further away. She'd always loved his eyes, and wished she could erase the pain she saw in them now. _We always knew this could. . . ._ Fynta began as the darkness took her.


	33. Worn Thin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Havoc Squad has to deal with the aftermath of their mission, while the Empire gears up to make another strike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Fluff and angst with a smidge of snark. I'm really excited to move into the next faze, though.

**Axial Park  
** **Republic Safe House**

Jorgan caught his reflection in the mirror and winced. He looked like hell. In the last sixty hours, he'd only left the room where they'd slept just five times. The Cathar sighed, feeling the weight of their approaching deadline. Everything felt wrong, as if the planet had shifted on its axis. Sleep evaded him. The mere thought of food turned his stomach as Jorgan spent every moment replaying the nightmare in his head. He should have realized how pale Fynta had become, should have known something was wrong.

The Cathar's hands shook when he pushed away from the sink. He still felt Fynta's blood slicking between his fingers, so Jorgan started the water again. The moment Coria mentioned that she was bleeding, Fynta had pitched forward. The Zabrak had managed to keep her from hitting the floor, and Jorgan set to work finding the source of the flow. He'd ripped away her leg plate and jammed a kolto injector into her thigh while Coria readied the coagulant powder. At that time, Jorgan hadn't been able to tell the extent of the damage, his only thought had been to get her to Elara as fast as possible.

A guttural growl rose in his chest, struggling against the pain he felt there. Jorgan let his irritation at feeling helpless push away the guilt. Yuun and Elara had worked quickly in the shuttle, then rushed Fynta into the hurriedly constructed medbay that Dorne had radioed ahead for. Cormac had been given the task of keeping Jorgan out of the room while they worked to stop the bleeding. The remainder of Havoc Squad stood in the hallway as medics rushed around collecting the instruments Dorne needed.

After coming to the conclusion that his hands were as clean as they could be, Aric ran one down his face, avoiding his reflection as he headed back into the casino. The room that had been a welcome respite two days age was now cramped. One hospital bed in the middle, with five heavily armored soldiers in chairs scattered around it. Then, there were the doctors and other soldiers who came and went. Coria remained one of Fynta's repeat visitors.

As Jorgan entered, Vik stood and stretched, announcing that he was going to hit the slots. Aric had lost count of how many times the Weequay had vanished. Each time, Jorgan expected him to sneak off world, but the man always came back. If there was a testament to Fynta's way with lesser lifeforms, it was Tanno Vik.

Cormac leaned forward and patted Dorne's leg. "I'm going to get some food. You want anything, doll?" The medic shook her head, and the man looked at Jorgan as the Cathar sank back into his chair. He answered in kind, picking up his pauldron to scrub at the stain again. Fynta's blood had flowed over Jorgan's shoulder, soaking into the nooks and crannies of his armor. No amount of scrubbing had been able to remove it, and he couldn't stand the sight of it.

Having struck out with the two of them, the big man set his sights on Yuun. "Wanna join me?" While the mere thought of food turned Jorgan's stomach, Cormac couldn't seem to get enough, and he refused to go anywhere alone. Yuun had remained silent during the process, spending most of it in meditation. Jorgan took some solace in the Findman's lack of concern. Regardless, Yuun stood gracefully and followed Cormac out, silently lending support to his friend and leaving Jorgan and Dorne alone with their stubbornly unconscious commander.

"She'll come around," Elara whispered, though the Cathar wasn't sure if it was for her benefit, or his. He couldn't bring himself to answer, because this was an eventuality that they all needed to face. Soldiers didn't always come home. Jorgan knew that, but he never thought he'd have to face it so soon.

Jorgan's eyelids had begun to drift shut when the equipment gave a long, solemn tone. Dorne lunged towards the bed before he could register the cause of the noise. It beeped again before taking on a normal rhythm once more. The Cathar remained poised on the edge of his chair, his momentum interrupted. "What was that?"

"Ah, fierfek." Jorgan's heart slammed to a stop at the sound. Then, he was on his feet in an instant, palms flat against the end of the bed. His pulse throbbed through his veins, making up for the brief sputter from before. "What the hell hit my head?" Fynta groaned, and the Cathar dropped his head between his shoulders, allowing himself to breathe fully for the first time since they'd boarded that shuttle more than two days ago.

Dorne began running through a list of medical exams, and the major batted her away in annoyance, eyes still shut. "Fynta, what's the last thing you remember?" Elara's voice sounded tight and breathy, but she held herself together better than Jorgan did. As it stood, he didn't trust himself to speak. He wanted to kiss and throttle the woman all at once. But he couldn't decide on which to do first, so he remained motionless.

"Slotting Rakton," Fynta recounted, lifting a hand to her face. She swallowed a few times, and Jorgan looked around for something to put water in. "Gets a little fuzzy after that."

"You lost a lot of blood," Dorne explained calmly, and Fynta opened her eyes for the first time. They were clear and perfectly blue.

Jorgan fully expected her to make some smart-assed remark about being invincible, but, her expression remained measured. "What did they hit me with?" Her eyes finally settled on Jorgan, and a knot loosened in his stomach as he held out a disposable cup of water. Fynta was alive, lucid, and swearing; she was going to be okay.

"Verpine," Jorgan answered through a tight throat. He'd know that signature crack anywhere. They were illegal in most civilized parts of the galaxy. "The projectile was durasteel, it slipped in between the plates and tore through the fibermesh."

The major's eyes drifted closed again after sipping from the cup, and she leaned her head back against the pillow. "I guess it was my turn." They'd all suffered a similar injury, but this had been different. Not even beskar was infallible, and as much as Havoc was shot at, this was bound to happen. It was why their bodysuits were so dense.

Jorgan cleared his throat, catching Elara's eye. "Fynta—we need to talk."

Two dark blue eyes focused on him and her brow furrowed. "I know that look," she said warily. "Can we not do this right now?"

Elara encouraged the major to sit up and began prodding at her lower back. The medic had reached the lowest discs when Fynta hissed in pain. Her eyes grew wide, and she yanked the sheet away from her legs, letting it slide to the floor. Jorgan swallowed again. "Fynta." He took a step forward, but Elara stopped him with an upraised hand.

The Cathar watched his wife carefully as she stared down at where her left leg should be. "Not what I was expecting," she admitted. Her attention settled on Dorne, eyes clouded and distant. "What happened?" Fynta's voice sounded weak, and a thin sheen of sweat beaded her forehead. Jorgan put a hand on her right knee, while Elara braced their commander's shoulders as she swayed.

The major took a shaky breath. "I'm fine," she asserted, then repeated the words in a stronger voice. "What happened?"

"The Verpine round shattered the acetabulum. You lost a lot of blood, sir. I'm sorry, but the head of the femur was beyond repair, and the medical equipment available here isn't . . . there—" Elara broke off, wringing her hands. "There was no way to save the leg."

Fynta ran tentative fingers over the bandage, wincing at the slightest pressure. Jorgan held his breath, waiting for her response while he tightened his fingers on her knee. "Coruscant has a vast array of prosthetics available, and I'm sure you would be first in line," Elara continued, trying to put a positive spin on a gruesome situation.

Someone knocked on the door, and Jorgan snatched the sheet from the floor to cover Fynta just as Lieutenant Coria poked his head in. He had the decency to look embarrassed, but that changed when he saw the major sitting up in bed. "Hey, you're alive!"

"Come on in, Coria," Fynta replied with forced cheer. Jorgan could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest, and all he wanted was for everyone to leave so that he could take his wife into his arms. To remind her that she wasn't alone in this. He settled for leaving his hand resting on her knee, an act that Coria's eye slid over quickly, but the lieutenant chose not to comment on.

Coria slipped in and shut the door. "You gave us all a scare. Those verps are messy." Fynta's lips pressed into a thin line, and Jorgan was tempted to smack the Zabrak on the back of the head. Coria knew the extent of her injuries, and had agreed under threat of violence from Cormac to keep it quiet. Still, his nervous chattering couldn't have come at a worse time.

As usual, Fynta fought back with snark. "I'll have to pick me up one as a souvenir." She waved a hand at the empty chairs scattered around the room.

"No doubt," Coria grinned, ignoring the invitation to sit. "Hey, I'd love to stick around, but I've got to ship out. I just wanted to check in one more time." He crossed the room to offer a hand to Fynta. "I'm glad you're not dead, Major, and look forward to fighting with you again." Coria saluted after the shake, then slipped back through the door, leaving as small an opening as possible.

Fynta sighed and flopped back onto the bed. It was clear that she fully expected her military career to be over, and that simply wouldn't do. This galaxy still needed Fynta Wolfe, and Jorgan would be damned if he was going to let her give up that easily. When Dorne turned away to begin transfer papers, Jorgan stepped closer, letting his hand slide up Fynta's leg. "It'll be okay," he whispered, and if Elara heard, she gave no indication. Fynta met his eyes and nodded, then her hand went to her neck, looking for the necklace he had given her so long ago.

Dorne had brought it to Jorgan after they'd stabilized Fynta, then he'd cleaned it while she slept. That little jewel had a lot of Fynta's blood on it, maybe even some of his too. Jorgan reached up to release the clip from around his neck. The chain fit him a lot tighter than it did her, but cramming it in his pocket didn't feel right this time. His movement caught Fynta's attention, and she smiled when he leaned over the bed to fasten it behind her neck. Her real smile gave Jorgan hope that this setback wouldn't ruin her after all.

"Any word from Garza?" Fynta asked, toying with the jewel absently. It was a habit she'd developed, something to focus on when a situation was spiraling out of her control. Jorgan could only imagine the swirl of emotions raging through her now.

"Only to say that we were to report to Coruscant when you were awake," Jorgan paused, letting the chain run through his fingers to get any chinks out. "Or in three days." The last bit came out as a growl, despite his efforts to remain detached. Garza had given Fynta three days to regain consciousness, then ordered Havoc Squad to report without her. There were less than twelve hours left.

Fynta stared down at the smoky stone between her fingers. "When can we move out—" the door burst open, cutting off her question. Cormac stood in the opening with an armful of wara nuts.

"Ha! About time you lazy son of a—" The smile that spread across Fynta's face was reminiscent of old times as the big man crossed the room. He dropped the packages of nuts on the end of the bed and grabbed Fynta's face to place a rough kiss on her forehead. "I was about to start getting creative," he chuckled, pulling back to beam at her.

While Elara might be like a sister, and Jorgan Fynta's husband, the major shared a special bond with Balic Cormac. "Well, I can't trust you lot to behave without me," the major teased, patting his hand.

Cormac's smile slipped when he met Jorgan's gaze, before snapping back into place for Fynta's sake. "We'll get you fixed up right, boss. I've got connections now." He released her and held his hands out to display his haul. "Thought you'd be hungry when you woke up, and this was all I could find."

Fynta pawed through the single serving packs. "What kind of connections?" She asked, finally settling on a package that looked like all the others. Meanwhile, Yuun crept in around Cormac, creating as small a footprint as possible as he took his seat in the corner again. Fynta smiled at the Gand, nodding her appreciation for his concern.

Cormac crossed his arms. "The kind that can get you back on your feet, Major." Jorgan eyed him suspiciously, even Dorne looked intrigued. Clearly neither of them had any idea what he was talking about.

The major shook her head and looked back at Jorgan. "Round everyone up, Captain. I want to go home."

 **En-route to Coruscant  
** **The Thunderclap**

Once in the safety of her room on the ship, Fynta reflected on the events of the last few hours. Cormac and Vic had managed to keep the brass busy while Jorgan wheeled her out in a chair, not even a hover chair, just a regular, old wheelchair. Dorne and Yuun spoke with the onsite physicians to distract them from the fact that their patient was, for all intents and purposes, escaping.

Pushing that thought aside, Fynta refocused on her datapad, trying for the tenth time to read the messages there. She saw the letters, and knew what the words said, but couldn't quite get them to make sense in a way that stuck. There was a message from Verin, completely in Mando'a, which meant he was utterly out of sorts. The gist of it being that he and Cinlat had been working behind the scenes to sabotage as much as they could before leaving the planet in a hurry. There was something about nearly being shot down, and his prowess as a pilot.

Jorgan had done the decent thing and contacted Fynta's brother about her injuries. Verin had a few colorful things to say about her stupidity too. She gave up on reading when he started in on the fact that a Cathar now had access to their private frequency, but wouldn't say how. She'd finish the letter later.

There was a second message, from Jonas Balker.

 _Once again, you make me the champion of the Op Center betting pool. I knew you'd be the one to take Rakton down, but these morons were sure some Jedi would do the deed first. I can't believe these people call themselves_ intelligence _agents. Anyway, I've included your cut of the winnings, you'd better use them to throw a colossal celebration. You've earned it._

_Oh, and let me know you're alright, okay? I don't know the details, but I heard someone in your squad got hit pretty hard._

Fynta was debating on whether or not to respond to any of them when Jorgan walked through the open door and settled on the bed. He examined her dented leg plate with a frown."Could've been a lot worse," he sighed at last. Fynta echoed him, trying to ignore the deep ache in her left hip. Well, what was left of it. "I thought, for a couple of hours . . . we might lose you." His voice dropped low and raw, and Fynta saw the strain in his knuckles from how tightly he held the plate.

The proper thing for a wife to do would be to pat his leg, tell him she was alive, and they'd be fine. Fynta had every intention of doing that too, until she remembered her promise to always be honest with him. "I guess Garza is going to take me out of the rotation now," she confessed, wheeling her chair back and forth for emphasis. "I'm not really Havoc material anymore." That had been the thought in the back of Fynta's mind since she'd woken up, but had never allowed herself to dwell on. Since they'd be at Coruscant in a few hours, she supposed it was time to face the music.

Jorgan's icy eyes locked onto hers, and Fynta was surprised to see anger flash through them. The Cathar shoved to his feet and began pacing the room. Fynta watched him warily, until he spun to face her again. "So, you're just going to give up?"

Fynta's face grew hot as indignation curled in her gut. Her fury was expounded by the fact that she was forced to argue with him from a _fierfeking chair_ , instead of getting in his face the way she wanted to. "What do you expect, Aric?" Fynta motioned to the empty space before her. "I can't lead Havoc like this."

"Last I checked, humans carried their wits in their heads, not their legs," Jorgan spat back, pointing at her with the beskar plate. Fynta rolled her eyes and the Cathar growled, then flicked his wrist, tossing the piece of armor towards her. She reacted on instinct, snatching the projectile from the air before it had a chance to connect. When Fynta glared at her husband, he wore a triumphant smirk and crossed his arms. "Your reflexes still work, just need to get you some new hardware."

Fynta gaped at him, then grimaced as his words sank in. Revolution snuffed out her rage. While she appreciated the fact that he was refusing to let her wallow in self-pity, the mere idea of the prosthesis she needed made Fynta's skin crawl. It would mean giving over a part of her brain to implants, something she despised. When Fynta looked at her husband, she saw equal parts hope and fear in his eyes. In that moment, the major knew that she couldn't sit at home while he risked his life in the fight.

 _Haar'chak_.

As much as she hated to admit it, Jorgan was right. If having a fake leg wired into her spinal cord would get her vertical again, then it _might_ be worth it. The alternative, retirement or a desk job, was unacceptable. Fighting was in her blood, she just needed a reminder from time to time.

All remaining traces of ire fled when Jorgan dropped to his knees and rested his hands on the wheels of her chair. Intense eyes bored into hers, and Fynta marveled again at how inhuman; how beautiful they were. Lifting his arm, Jorgan displayed the leather band she'd given him after they'd shared wedding vows. "Remember what this says?" Fynta nodded, her throat clenched too tight to speak. "We've got each other's backs. Meaning, I'm not letting you bow out just because it'll be uncomfortable. Blast it, woman. This squad still needs you."

"Fine," Fynta replied shakily. It was all she could manage at the moment.

Aric understood and didn't ask for more, simply leaned forward to pull Fynta gently against his chest. His arms enveloped her and something about the warmth of his skin against hers drove away some of the pain. Inhaling his unique scent, Fynta let herself be drawn in and closed her eyes. She was still so tired, and when he rested his chin on her head, the familiarity of the moment lulled her into relaxation. Right now, nothing else mattered except that Aric Jorgan was willing to stand by her side while she sorted out the new, unexpected direction her life had taken. In that quiet moment, Fynta made her decision. She would do whatever it took to remain by him too.

 **Dromund Kaas  
** **Sith Intelligence**

"You summoned me?" Zolah stood in the Intelligence building, in Keeper's office no less, staring at the unfamiliar visage of a Sith Pureblood and his human protégé. Darth Arkous had called her in to consult on a plan he'd devised to strike a blow at the Republic. As the Chiss agent awaited his response, she took in the newly reorganized _Sith Intelligence_. She didn't recognize any of the faces, each Watcher was remarkably younger than any she had ever seen. Zolah remembered Watcher Two stating that the next generation were smarter than her, but that had been inconceivable. However, these newer models processed data at unprecedented speeds. So quickly that the ones and zeros blazing across their screen were blurs to Zolah's eyes.

Taking a subtle breath, the Chiss refocused on the cause her arrival on Dromund Kaas. She still felt the effects of the emotional tailspin she'd experienced after waking up from Hunter's little torture session to the news of General Rakton's death. It was hard to fathom, a galaxy without the guidance of Arkous Rakton, and here Dromund Kaas stood, carrying on as normal. As if he might call in at any moment with a new strategy to win yet another battle.

Zolah had remained professional, completing her mission on Corellia, then going on to take down the Star Cabal as promised. All the while, she'd felt numb, similar to the aftereffects of launching the Eradicators, but this was a much deeper ache. Only Vector had noticed, claiming her song had changed, asking if there was any way he could help. Zolah pushed the memory away. It had been a moment of weakness, one she couldn't allow to happen again. Vector Hyllus was a wonderful man who deserved a woman that would honor him. That was something Zolah was incapable of doing.

There was one promise the Chiss planned to keep, however. As soon as _this_ operation was over, Zolah intended to discover the details behind her mentor's death and take appropriate action against those responsible. It was an illogical, emotional response to loss, yet she would follow through with it nonetheless. She wouldn't demean herself by justifying it as anything other than personal vengeance.

"Greetings, Cipher," called the blond woman in a friendly tone that made Zolah instantly wary. All pondering about future goals evaporated in the presence of the two Sith. Darth Zorrid had spoken in friendly tones as well, even if they had been tinged with madness. "Won't you join us?" The woman continued.

Zolah took her cue to approach and saw a planet that she recognized, though was hard pressed to understand why it was on the staging table. "Tython?" She asked, leaning a little closer to confirm her suspicions while maintaining a reverent stance.

The Sith Pureblood stalked back and forth across from Zolah, arms folded over his chest, and eyes all but glowing with the anticipation of attack. Once again, however, it was the woman who answered. "Yes, but first, introductions. This is Darth Arkous. My name is Lana Beniko." Zolah stole a glance at the woman who was clearly Sith, yet boasted no title.

"Intelligence was never under my direct purview," Darth Arkous began without looking up. "But, I'm well aware of the many exploits of the former Cypher Nine." Despite his annoyed appearance, Arkous also spoke in a melodious, almost friendly tone, much like Beniko. Zolah watched both Sith carefully while she studied the hologram of the Jedi homeworld.

"If I could carry a tune, I would sing of this day," Arkous continued, and Zolah's gaze snapped up to him involuntarily. She only just barely resisted the twitch of her eyebrow. "What we are about to accomplish, the galaxy will forever behold with great wonderment."

Zolah recognized the name now, and the peculiar persona. "You're the Minister of Offense."

"Yes, yes," Arkous waved her revelation aside. "As such, I have repeatedly enjoyed the fruits of your labor." Lana directed a few holo soldiers to a different point of attack and nodded with approval, while Arkous rubbed his hands together in glee. "If we act fast and strike hard, it will absolutely ruin Republic morale. Annihilate it." The red skinned Sith leaned forward on the table, his face just on the other side of the transparent globe. "Would you like that, Agent?"

Zolah watched the planet rotate before her, saw the mass of Imperial ships being called back in preparation for the strike. It would take some time to put together, but Zolah was confident in her ability to oversee the infiltration. After all, the opportunity to gain access to all the secrets of the Jedi Temple was unfathomable. As an intelligence agent, this was something she simply could not pass up. "I'm in," Zolah replied, finally meeting the Sith's red eyes. Revenge could wait a little longer. This was for the Empire.

**Nar Shaddaa**  
**Apartment 215**  
**Twenty-seven days later**

"Har'chaak!"

Jorgan stumbled out of bed, still half asleep, to find Fynta on the floor in the hallway. They'd chosen to have the surgeon meet them on Nar Shaddaa so that she could recover in the privacy of her own home. Fynta was determined to make this work, no matter how undignified. However, learning to use her cybernetic leg was proving to be a more difficult task than either of them had anticipated.

Rubbing his fingers over his eyes to clear away the blurriness, Jorgan squatted next to his wife and held out a hand. "I've got it," Fynta growled in response, so he withdrew the offer. She grit her teeth in concentration, forcing the gleaming, silver leg to bend and allow her to roll onto her hands and knees. Heaving a sigh, Fynta shoved herself to her feet and promptly staggered against the wall. She didn't breathe again until the threat of toppling over had passed.

"I don't think I've ever done anything this physically exhausting," Fynta grumbled, taking shaky steps as her hand ran along the wall for support.

Jorgan remained where he was, watching her stumble through the darkness. He admired her grit, but wished she wouldn't make him a bystander in her recovery. The whole purpose for him using up personal days was so he could help. Then again, accepting help was rarely in Fynta's nature. Jorgan sighed. "The estimated time for recovery is three months, Fynta. You're doing remarkably well."

The major scowled over her shoulder. "Now you sound like Dorne."

Jorgan smirked and pushed himself upright. "Well, one of us has to."

Cormac's _connections_ had set them up with the doctor who performed the graft. They'd paid top credit for this tech. Jorgan had insisted on paying half of what the Republic wouldn't, stating that her recovery was just as important to him. The leg was wired directly into Fynta's nervous system and covered in millions of tiny sensors that could trick her mind into thinking she could feel. It was in an effort to combat the phantom pain phenomenon, but Jorgan found her reactions entertaining as well. She said it wasn't quite like being touched, more of a tickle.

As Jorgan stalked past her, he let his fingers slide along the hem of her shorts and over the shiny surface of her new thigh. Without thinking, Fynta jerked away from the strange sensation with normal, balanced steps. He raised an eyebrow at her glare. "You're blocking it up here," the Cathar repeated for at least the hundredth time, tapping his temple for emphasis.

"I've got two weeks to figure this osik out, Aric. Three months won't hack it," Fynta snarled back at him, refusing to concede to such a simple solution. Then, she shut her eyes and took another calming breath. She'd done that a lot over the last month, most of it spent on the verge of losing her temper.

The Cathar blinked at her. "When did you find out?" Jorgan had received the communique from Garza six days ago, but hadn't been able to bring himself to tell Fynta yet. Havoc was due to ship out in a couple of weeks, with or without their commanding officer. Jorgan was to take control temporarily until Fynta was cleared for duty. Naturally, she wasn't going to stand for being left behind.

"That doesn't matter," she shot back. "Only that I'm on that ship with my squad."

Jorgan subtly scrutinized his wife. Fynta's mouth was set in grim determination, her eyes hard and focused, and every muscle taut. Seeing that there was no changing her mind, he grabbed his jacket and began rifling through the closet to find hers. "What are you doing?" Fynta questioned.

The Cathar returned to their room to snag a pair of PT pants for her, then tossed the clothing to Fynta on his way to the door where their boots waited. He'd also snatched the cane from the corner of the room and waved it at her. "If you plan on going with us, stumbling down a dark hallway isn't going to do you any good. We need to train."

Fynta eyed the cane with distaste as she pulled on her cover and wobbled into loose fitting pants. "It's the middle of the night." Jorgan met her question with an incredulous stare. It wasn't like either of them were going back to sleep. "Fine. What did you have in mind?"

Jorgan offered his arm for support, and Fynta leaned on it as he pulled open the door. "We are going to the local obstacle course." The Cathar slid his eyes over to her. "And I'm checking out an electrodart rifle."

Fynta glared at him, though she couldn't hide the pull at the corner of her lips. "Do I get one?"

"Nope," Jorgan responded with some satisfaction. "You're going to need to get creative. I won't go down easily." He gave her shoulder a gentle nudge when she appeared dejected. "Sometimes, you have to run before you can walk."


	34. Rise Above

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst, fluff, angry Elara, and a food fight. Is there anything more one could want?

**Coruscant**  
**Republic Officer's Barracks  
** **Fourteen weeks after Corellia**

Fynta woke with a start. It took a few moments of staring at the ceiling to recognize the sound that had pulled her from a pleasant dream. She and Aric had been on a resort planet. He looked fantastic in a pair of swim shorts, and she'd had both of her legs. Fynta had just talked him into giving parasailing a try when she was wrenched from paradise. Briefly, Fynta considered how much better that reality was compared to the one she faced now. Then, she shoved the thought away angrily. She refused to fall back into the whimpering mess that she'd been before.

Fynta rolled to face her husband. The risk of discovery had lost some of its menace when Jorgan took personal leave to help her through the worst of her recovery. Clearly, Aric's devotion went beyond simple concern for his commander's wellbeing. General Garza had given him a hard look when he requested time, then stated that so long as they remained a cohesive team, she didn't want to know. They were still careful to be professional in the public eye of course, but going to drastic lengths to hide their relationship had lost its appeal.

A sharp pain shot up Fynta's spine when she moved too quickly. The first few minutes after waking up were always the worst. Her hip was stiff, and the grafted skin pulled uncomfortably. Finding a more satisfactory position, Fynta located the source of the disturbance. The muscles in Aric's face twitched as he muttered in his sleep, the patterns around his eyes and mouth contorting into a deep scowl. He was having another nightmare.

They were always quiet, which Fynta supposed she should be grateful for. A thrashing Cathar would make a dangerous bedmate. But, there was something about the quiet growls that made Fynta want to protect her husband from whatever haunted his dreams.

Reaching out, Fynta raked her nails over his scalp, an act she knew he found soothing. The Cathar took a deep breath, stilled, then slowly opened his eyes. "You okay, riduur?" Fynta asked with a smile.

Aric sighed and rolled onto his back. Running a hand down his face, he used the other to pull Fynta closer. She turned away, trying to hide the wince that his gentle movement brought, before nesting against his side. "Another bad dream?" Fynta released the breath she'd held while getting into position with a puff, and Jorgan frowned at her.

"Can't say that I remember," the Cathar responded. Fynta knew it was a lie by his erratic heartbeat under her ear. Forgettable dreams didn't make a person's pulse pound the way his did, and she had a pretty good guess about what it involved.

"Well, it's nearly time to get up and creep back to your room anyway," Fynta sighed. As much as she wanted to lay in his arms longer, they really shouldn't push their luck. Not to mention, the pressure on her spine was becoming troublesome.

"Turn over," Jorgan commanded.

The Cathar waited while Fynta complied, which took more time and effort than the major wanted to admit. Once she had found a comfortable position, Jorgan wrapped his arms around her from behind and took a deep breath. "I could stay here this time. Let them say what they will." Fynta felt the vibrations from his chest and had to admit it was tempting. The body heat he provided against her back relieved a good bit of the soreness.

"Then we'd never get out of this bed," Fynta half teased. It would be so easy to stay in this room and ignore everything they had to do today. Even if the major hadn't been cleared for duty yet, she'd been expected to carry her weight in paperwork. Just because she had been out of commission didn't mean the Republic sat idle.

Aric sighed and pushed himself upright, depriving Fynta of his warmth. "You're right. Best not to try our luck."

Rolling forward off the bed was easier than flipping onto her back. So, by the time Fynta turned to look at her husband, he'd already crossed the room and had his shirt halfway over his head. Fynta admired him from where she stood, looking away when he glanced in her direction. Aric continued gathering the few clothes he'd smuggled into her room while the major set about getting her new leg ready for the day. Mostly, they were range of motion exercises geared towards helping her move more fluidly, but they went a long way towards relieving the pain too.

Jorgan's holo buzzed, and he furrowed his brows at the readout. "Huh, Dorne wants to see me after the meeting." Fynta had just bent forward to place her hands flat on the floor when Aric walked by and smacked her ass. "You're not as sly as you think, by the way" he remarked with some satisfaction. "I saw you looking."

The major shot him a playful grin over her shoulder and wiggled her hips, ignoring the pinch the movement produced. She'd flirt with her husband if it killed her, and there wasn't a damn thing this galaxy or the Force could do to stop her.

"Another round on the training course later?" Fynta asked while Jorgan pulled on his jacket. The one on Coruscant was much better than what they'd been able to find on Nar Shaddaa, and it pushed her harder than she thought possible.

"Want to hit it before your date?" Jorgan replied, casting her a rueful smirk.

Fynta straightened and crossed her arms. "Jealous, are we?" The Cathar chuckled, closing the space between them to kiss her forehead.

"I'll see you later." Then, Jorgan slipped out of the room. He had a morning full of briefings to handle as acting commander of Havoc Squad, and Fynta didn't envy him one bit. She glanced at the chrono and winced. He'd be cutting it close. She hoped he didn't run into any other officers in the hallway.

As the major stared at the door, she briefly considered all the bad ideas that usually surfaced when she tried to figure out a way to expedite the healing process. She forced them down, knowing that Dorne would have her hide should she give voice to any of them. Still, Fynta had a good feeling about today. She would finally wrestle that damn dart gun from Aric. Then, she was going to shoot him in the shebs as payback for three months of loving rehabilitation.

**Coruscant**  
**Old Galactic Market**  
**Concourse Lounges**

Cormac yawned while he waited in the little coffee shop. Fynta hadn't made the deadline, but Jorgan assured the squad that she'd made progress. She'd kept in touch with them while they were on mission, which had been some little clean up op in the Outer Rim. No injuries, but the travel time had been long and boring. Not to mention, quiet.

Jorgan was a solid commander. He'd delivered their orders concisely, and everyone knew their role, but it lacked Fynta's flare. Not even the arguments with Vik felt as fun without their spunky little commander there to tell them both to shut the hell up in increasingly creative ways. Upon their return, Fynta had been so busy getting reports from Jorgan and irritating Elara, that Cormac hadn't had a chance to sit down with her to see how she was doing.

The bell at the door rang, and Cormac glanced up to see the familiar tattooed face of one of his favorite people in the galaxy. His eyes traveled to her left leg without conscious thought, and a big, stupid grin spread across his face. Fynta walked without a cane, only the slight limp gave any indication that she'd been wounded. "Hey, boss. Looking good."

"I'm a married woman, Cormac," Fynta replied, sliding into the booth across from him, albeit, stiffly. "Behave yourself."

Cormac chuckled and waved the service droid over to order them some 'caf. "I think I could take him." Fynta raised an eyebrow, which pulled a full laugh from him. "It's _my_ wife that scares me."

The major grinned. "And rightfully so. The woman is incorrigible."

Balic laughed harder. "See, I can tell you've been around her more than usual. You're starting to use big words." The droid returned with two mugs of the worst coffee he'd ever tasted, but that wasn't the point of this meeting anyway. "Elara told me the good news. She was rather annoyed about you pushing yourself so hard when she delivered it, but I'm relieved to have you back."

Fynta answered with a cheeky smile. She'd just been cleared for light duty with the squad by both Republic medical specialists and Elara. Meaning, no more sitting on the sidelines.

Fynta leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, also ignoring her drink. "Did Jorgan get in trouble?"

Cormac met her halfway and lowered his voice. "He was getting a proper scolding when I snuck off the ship." It was difficult to maintain control over the octave of his voice. "Elara's accent was almost too thick for even me to understand, and I swear she called him a wanker."

Fynta sputtered, throwing a hand over her mouth to avoid making too much noise. "Really?"

Cormac shook his head. "You've never seen that woman's temper, she's scary when she's pissed." He doubted many people seen it, but Jorgan had been admitted to those prestigious ranks. Fynta usually induced exasperation from the ex-Imperial, but never wrath.

"How did Jorgan respond?" Fynta asked. It was no secret that the Cathar had a temper of his own. However, he'd been caught unawares by the feisty medic, and was still staring stupidly at her when Cormac made his retreat. The big man did his best to replicate the look on the captain's face, and Fynta gave up on keeping her laughter in check.

"Anyway, we never got to celebrate the end of the Rakton mission with everything that happened, so, I wanted to treat you to lunch and maybe a couple of rounds at the firing range." Cormac lifted his mug, then thought better of actually drinking the contents. "Hopefully their food is better than the caf."

Fynta smirked, a challenge gleaming in her eyes as she picked up her cup and sipped at it. Cormac watched for any indication of disgust, then swore when she didn't pull a face. That meant he'd have to drink it too, because he had yet to back down from one of her dares. It just wasn't in his nature. Cormac and Fynta were pals first, competitors second. Always would be.

**The Thunderclap**

Jorgan dropped Fynta's bag on the bed in their room and took a deep breath. It was amazing how quickly a person's scent could dissipate from a place. The Cathar was immensely pleased to have his wife back aboard the ship, even if she grumbled about being relegated to logistics.

Fynta was once again in charge of Havoc Squad. A year ago, this command would have been Aric's dream. Now, he was more than happy to give it up as soon as she'd been cleared for duty. No one could hold such a diverse group together better than their Mandalorian commander, though he still hadn't figured out how she did it.

"I've missed this place."

Jorgan looked up to find his wife standing in the doorway. "It's good to have you here again." The Cathar glanced at the bed. "That's too big for one person. Not sure how you managed it for so long."

"You could have always moved back into the barracks with Vik and Yuun," Fynta smirked. Then, before he could remark on what a terrible idea that would be, she crossed the room to wrap her arms around Jorgan's waist. "Thank you, riduur."

Aric folded his arms around Fynta, propping his chin on her head. "I only helped," he replied softly. "This victory is yours."

Fynta leaned back to look him in the eye, but Jorgan pulled her closer for a kiss. Vik chose that moment to swing into the room. "Well, that didn't take long," the Weequay snarked. "Bet it's a whole new experience now, eh, Cap?" Vik patted his left leg and winked.

Jorgan snarled, stepping away from Fynta. "What do you want, Vik?"

The Weequay's grin grew. "The bug says we are ready to get off this heap." He took a step out of their room and put his hand on the door. "Want me to shut this for you?"

Jorgan stormed forward, stopping only when Vik retreated back to the barracks. Sometimes, Jorgan could almost see the appeal in the Weequay; he excelled at his job. Other days, the Cathar wanted to shoot the damn man. Today was definitely the latter. When Jorgan turned back to his wife, her eyebrows were creased. Vik had inadvertently poked at a topic that both had avoided since the incident on Corellia.

"Fynta—"

"We've got some things to figure out," she responded, cutting him off.

Jorgan nodded. Naturally, their love life had been put on hold during Fynta's recovery. There was little doubt that they would need to progress slowly, but that was unimportant at the moment. "Not today." The Cathar closed the gap and rested his hands on Fynta's shoulders, rubbing her arms. "One thing at a time."

Fynta smiled. "Yeah, I need to kick some Imperial ass first. That'll do wonders for my recovery."

"That's my girl," the Cathar chuckled as the floor vibrated, signaling their jump to hyperspace. Fynta teetered, overcompensating for the unnatural shift. Balance was still her biggest obstacle. Jorgan pretended not to notice.

**Hoth  
** **Thirty Weeks after Corellia**

Elara had a migraine. There could be no other explanation for the all-encompassing pain behind her eyes that wrapped her entire head in a vice. She'd never had one before, but had heard they were dreadful. This was but one of the many new experiences she could claim since joining Havoc Squad, and at its center, Major Fynta Wolfe.

"Really, sir," Elara began as she followed the major through the underground compound. She rubbed her temples as they walked, trying to blot out the hissing of the pipes above them that heated the facility. "You're pushing yourself too hard."

Fynta didn't slow down, in fact, the infuriating woman quickened her pace. As if to prove to Elara that she could now walk hastily without toppling over. As if that would convince the medic that she was ready for combat. Elara had agreed to sign the major's approval papers so that she could keep a closer eye on the woman. Since Jorgan seemed just as eager to push his wife back into battle. The accord had lasted nearly three weeks, the remainder being spent in an unending struggle between the medic and her commanding officer.

"We've got one man down, and the rest facing pirates, Dorne," Fynta shot back with a glance over her shoulder. "It's time I led my squad again."

"Honestly," Elara huffed in return as they pushed through the doors into the medbay where Yuun sat on a bed at the far end. Balic lifted his hand to wave at the approaching women, then thought better of it upon seeing their expressions.

Fynta stopped at the bottom of the bed and grabbed Yuun's chart. Elara, not generally one for blunt rudeness, plucked the report from the major's hand. "Let me see it, Fynta. You won't understand half of what you read anyway." Balic's eyebrows shot up. Perhaps, if Fynta hadn't been such a handful over the last couple of days, Elara's head wouldn't be pounding like a drum, and she could afford to be polite.

The major crossed her arms and snorted. "Well?"

"Patience," Elara admonished while Yuun filled them in on what happened. Not that Jorgan hadn't already done just that when he radioed that Cormac was returning with an injured Gand. Fynta had, of course, jumped at the excuse to rush into the field. "Minor electrical burns. Hardly anything to get worked up over."

Yuun held his bandaged hands up for display. "This Gand foolishly reached into an unlit control panel and was appropriately rewarded." His large, red eyes blinked down at the white gauze. "Yuun should be healed in a few days, and has learned a valuable lesson."

Fynta's lips pressed into a thin line. "Well, I can't leave Vik and Jorgan out there alone," she stated with a finality that irritated Elara all the more.

Before the medic could protest, Balic smacked the major on the back. "Hey, that's great, boss. We'd be happy to have—" his sentence cut off abruptly when he caught sight of the glare Elara cast at him. "Uh, I mean. You sure you should be—" he stammered to a halt again when Fynta raised her eyebrow, then gave up and snapped his mouth shut. Elara thought that was in his best interest at the moment.

"Sir," Elara began with an exaggerated breath. "Captain Jorgan and Sergeant Vik are scheduled to return within the hour. The sun is setting on the surface, and you are not fit for this environment." The two women glared at one another until Elara had finally had enough. "I will not sign your release forms as long as you insist on acting like a petulant child."

Balic sucked in a breath, and Yuun made a valiant attempt at being invisible. The minute stretched out, but Elara refused to back down. She'd seen every tactic the major used to win an argument. She refused to be bullied into possibly causing her friend more harm simply because the woman was bored. Finally, Fynta conceded with a sharp laugh. "Fine." As the woman turned to storm off, Elara was met with the amusing sight of the blond braid flailing wildly behind her. Instead of being infuriated, the medic sniggered.

"Uh, doll?" Balic edged closer, muscles tense as if prepared to spring away should she turn her wrath on him. "Everything alright?"

The medic sighed and massaged her temples again. "Balic, should we ever have children. Help me ensure they are not as stubborn and pigheaded as that woman." She gestured vaguely in the direction of where Fynta had gone, though her eyes remained shut to her surroundings.

Two, heavy hands rested on Elara's shoulders. "You look worn out. Kind of like Jorgan after he's gone head to head with the boss. Why don't you go lie down?" She glanced up at her husband, wincing at the overly bright medbay lights. "Yuun and I will keep an eye on Fynta. We'll make sure she doesn't do anything stupid until you're recovered."

"Do you really think you can make her see reason?" Elara asked, almost desperately.

Balic chuckled. "No, but Yuun has some adhesive that he thinks will work." When Elara looked at the Gand, he bobbed his head vigorously, and she had to laugh. Yuun had been making great attempts to fit in lately, much as she had done in the beginning.

"Very well, perhaps a brief respite is needed." Elara placed a light kiss on her husband's knuckles before patting Yuun's knee. "If your hands start to hurt too badly, come find me." Again, he nodded, and Elara bid them both farewell before heading to the barracks to bury her head under a pillow.

A few hours later, the woman woke no less exhausted, but at least her headache was gone. She stretched, followed her usual hygiene routine, then headed for the mess hall to find out whether or not Fynta had behaved for Balic and Yuun. Or, if it ended up being the two of them glued to a chair. Elara had just rounded the final corner, when a hand wrapped around her upper arm and nearly yanked the medic off her feet.

Elara looked up to find that the chest she'd been so roughly pulled into belonged to Captain Jorgan, and judging by his expression, he wasn't too thrilled with their circumstances. "Is something wrong, Jorgan?"

The Cathar spared Elara a single glance, still holding her fast, then spun them both to the right just as something wet slapped against the wall where his head had been. "Damn woman," he growled. For the first time, Elara understood what Fynta meant when she mentioned feeling the captain's speech before hearing it. It was fascinating, until she realized how closely they were pressed together.

Clearing her throat, Elara tried again. "Captain."

This time, when Jorgan looked at her, the same realization flashed across his features, and he released her. "Sorry, Dorne." The man nodded towards what had nearly hit them. "That hallway has become a war zone."

Elara bent to examine the projectile, only to discover that it was some form of mashed, fibrous vegetable. "Oh no," she breathed, looking up to see Jorgan's crossed arms and raised brow of confirmation. So much for her migraine being gone.

Poking her head around the corner, remaining low to the floor, Elara could just make out the overturned tables and frantic cheers in the mess hall. "Yuun, Vik, Cormac, and Fynta are all MIA," Jorgan stated flatly. There was little doubt where any of them were.

"We must put a stop to this," Elara commented, backing away from the hallway and righting herself again. "This is absolute madness."

Jorgan shrugged, then sighed when it became clear that Elara intended for him to take part in dismantling the shenanigans in the mess hall. The Cathar flashed a feral grin that she had only seen a few times. "I'll be right back."

Elara tilted her head to watch Jorgan disappear down the adjacent hall, then returned her attention to the giddy shrieks and shouts from the room. Jorgan's familiar boots echoed off the empty walls, pulling Elara's attention back around. She gaped at what she saw. The Cathar had snapped his chestplate on over his fatigue shirt and carried his sniper rifle. Elara stared dumbstruck as Jorgan lowered himself to the floor beside her, popped out the rifle's barrel stand, and sighted up. "Perfect."

"Jorgan, what are you—" the rifle cracked, even louder in the tight quarters of the underground compound. Elara's hands flew to her ears as she crawled forward on her elbows to creep around the corner. No matter how well she knew the Cathar, she still feared what awaited her.

A soldier, not one Elara recognized, stood in the doorway staring dumbly at the charred hole in the middle of his food tray. Jorgan propped up on his elbows and cleared his throat before shouting at the soldier. "This has now become a live fire exercise. I suggest you act accordingly!"

The soldier glanced at where Jorgan lay prostrate in the open, while Elara peeked around the corner. After half a second for Jorgan's words to register, he threw the tray aside and took off. Other soldiers began rearranging the tables to defend against the new attack, instead of one another.

Jorgan dropped the cartridge he'd used and replaced it with a new one. The action confused Elara. This entire situation was an outright nightmare. She finally understood when a female soldier tried to dart from one barricade to another. As soon as the woman's torso was within view, Jorgan squeezed the trigger, and the woman cried out.

"Dummy rounds," the Cathar explained with a smirk. "Non-lethal. Hurt like hell." Elara was speechless.

"I surrender," another male, this one a Nautolan, called. He emerged with his hands held high above his head. "I'm coming out." Someone hissed at him from behind, and the soldier turned to reply in his mother tongue. From what little Elara could catch, he'd called the person an idiot, and said he hadn't signed up to play target practice for Havoc Squad.

When the Nautolan was close enough, Jorgan nodded for Elara to grab the bundle of wire ties sticking out of his back pocket and secure the soldier. She obeyed, seeing now that he was a sergeant named Vojul. He submitted to imprisonment without complaint and allowed her to lead him to a safe spot on the other side of the wall. After ensuring he wouldn't try to escape, Elara rejoined Jorgan.

It took another ten minutes to wheedle the soldiers down to Balic and Fynta. Yuun had surrendered not long after Vojul, while Vik lay on the floor still holding his crotch and cursing. Jorgan had claimed it was an accident, and had offered an unconvincing apology. Two more soldiers, both human, had chosen to take their chances and faced Jorgan's dummy bolts. Both lay on the floor not far from Vik. There were five prisoners, as Jorgan called them. Vojul, Yuun, a Twi'lek female, and two more humans.

"What do you say, Fynta?" Jorgan called out. "Give up yet?"

"Havoc doesn't surrender!" Came the major's reply, her laughter barely contained.

Then, there was the sound of a scuffle and a muffled argument. Balic's hands appeared above the table. "This one does," he replied. "Sorry, boss, but that looks like it hurts." Elara watched her husband stand slowly, then edge into the open as if he was convinced Jorgan would shoot him anyway. Elara stepped out and glared, hands on hips.

Balic's steps faltered. "Eh, maybe you should just take me out, Captain. It'll be less painful."

"Honestly, Balic." Elara stomped down the hallway to meet him, intending to tighten his restraints more than necessary simply because she was so cross with him. "Of all the irresponsible—"

"Elara, watch out!" The medic turned in time to see Jorgan come up to one knee, rifle against his shoulder.

Balic wrapped his arms around Elara and spun her against the wall, effectively shielding her from the rounds that Jorgan fired at a target she couldn't see. She heard the _ping_ of something solid against metal and pushed Balic's arm out of the way in time to see Fynta pivot on her good leg to aim a solid kick at Jorgan's rifle barrel with her left. Elara understood immediately. That sound had been the rounds ricocheting off the major's metal leg.

The rifle wrenched from Jorgan's hands, and Fynta pounced on him. The Cathar grunted when she landed on his stomach, driving the breath from him with her momentum and weight. Balic finally leaned away from where he had Elara trapped against the wall and chuckled. She smacked his chest forcefully, though her blow did little to wound him. "Balic, did you plan that?"

"Nope," her husband responded, rubbing where she'd struck him. "The boss totally used me." He grinned as if he hadn't minded though.

"Do you surrender, Captain?" Fynta purred in a tone that Elara felt was a little too flirty for someone who wasn't supposed to be married. Jorgan snarled in defiance while the others looked on. "Good," the major said with a cheerful laugh. Then promptly smeared something yellow and unidentifiable down the Cathar's face and neck.

Jorgan's shocked expression got a hoot of laughter and cheers from the prisoners. Even a few muffled grunts of appreciation from the ones who were starting to drag themselves off the floor. The major, covered in all manner of food, faced her audience. "Alright, we've had our fun. Everyone hit the showers, then back here at 0900 to clean up this mess."

Fynta offered Jorgan a hand while Elara and Balic released the prisoner's bonds. "Admit it, you enjoyed that."

The Cathar grimaced as he wiped some of the goo from his face. "Do you have any idea how long it will take to get this stuff out?" The major stepped closer and whispered something that, judging by Jorgan's raised eyebrows, Elara was glad she couldn't hear. "Deal," he replied, and the two slipped away together.

"Come on, doll," Balic said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and dripping a brown liquid onto her shirt. "It _was_ fun."

Elara rolled her eyes and sighed, all the while watching the major retreat with her husband. All that the medic could think of was how fluidly Fynta had rushed the captain, and the fact that there wasn't the faintest hint of a limp in her step. It pained the medic to admit that maybe Fynta was right.

**The Thunderclap**

The entire crew was dead on their feet after four hours of cleaning the mess hall. Everyone had shown up and done their part, but the impromptu food fight had been a massive success. To the point that by the time they had finished cleaning it up, Fynta wasn't sure if she ever wanted to eat again. Getting that mess out of Jorgan's fur hadn't been an easy task either. Granted, they'd gotten distracted a time or two.

With Havoc's initial mission complete, Yuun's hands coated in a special medical paste, the mess hall squared away, and Vik only slightly limping, Fynta headed for the bridge. She had made it halfway across the main room when Elara motioned for her attention. The major bit back a cringe at the look on the medic's face, then again when she realized Cormac was nowhere to be found.

"You weren't too hard on him, were you?" Fynta asked as she entered the medbay.

Elara looked up from her datapad, then over Fynta's shoulder towards the refresher. "Balic is fine. It's you I'm concerned about."

The major sighed and crossed her arms, leaning her right hip against the counter. "Go ahead. I need my daily dose of lecture."

"Is this all a game to you, Fynta?" Elara's blatant question caused the major to flinch, as did the anger in the other woman's voice. "Do you not realize how far it will set you back in your recovery if you tear that graft? You are skin fused with metal, that kind of healing takes time. If I had my way, I'd have left you on Nar Shaddaa for a solid year to ensure you did not cause any further damage to the tissue." The medic's accent grew thicker as she began to pace side to side in the small medbay. "You are far too reckless, Fynta. Do you believe that Jorgan wants to watch you suffer again? To have to start your physical therapy all over?"

Fynta flinched at the accusation, but when she opened her mouth to respond, Elara spoke over her. "It's selfish," the medic spat. "Pure and simple. You are impatient and selfish."

The major's eyebrows shot up. She'd been called a lot of things in her life, but selfish had never been one of them. Fynta wanted to argue, but she got the impression Elara wasn't finished with her rant. Remaining silent took some effort, though. "If you damage that graft, it could be permanent. This technology is cutting edge; there is so much about it that we still don't understand. The sensors are delicate, and the wires hard to repair. Not to mention the damage you could do to you spinal column should you dislocate the entire apparatus."

Elara took a shaky breath. "Your impatience could cost you everything, and there are those of us on this ship that won't stand for that kind of foolishness." Fynta swallowed hard, being rightfully chastened. The medic put her hands on her hips, tapping the datapad against her thigh while she stared at the floor, and Fynta realized she'd finally gotten a glimpse of Elara Dorne's temper. Cormac had been right, it was a scary thing indeed, because Elara fought with logic instead of her fists.

The two women stood in silence for what seemed like eternity. Finally, Elara sighed and tossed the datapad to Fynta. The major caught it, but only just. "There's your godsdamned medical release. I wash my hands of you Fynta Wolfe." Elara glared at her, while Fynta stared at the datapad. Sure enough, it was a full medical release. She could get back in the fight. It was probably best not to mention that taking Jorgan down had been an accident. Her new leg worked flawlessly now, however, Fynta had noticed that when she ran, the prosthetic had more power. Fynta had to constantly adjust to maintain her balance. It was something she hoped to master one day.

When Fynta looked up, she found Elara's grey eyes boring into her own. "I hope you will use that wisely, major. There are a lot of people still depending on you to run this squad." Fynta wanted to hug the woman, but given Elara's still thick accent, she decided the safer option would be simple gratitude, and to get the hell out of there before the medic changed her mind.

The major slipped into her room and grinned at the device. It felt good to be free of the medical red tape that had strangled her over the last five months. "So, you won after all," Jorgan remarked from where he lay on their bed reading.

Fynta grinned and waved the device at him, then frowned at his lack of congratulations. The Cathar sighed, returning his attention back to his article. "I thought for sure Elara could make you see reason."

The thought that everyone on this ship was concerned for Fynta's personal well being except the major herself was so jarring that she nearly dropped the datapad. _Fierfek, Elara was right._ She had been increasingly selfish, thinking only of the next step, of getting back into battle. Sure, she told herself it was for her men, so that she could watch their backs. But in this moment, weighed down by the disappointment of her husband and one of her closest friends, Fynta realized it had only been an act of rebellion. Simply put, Fynta hated being told what to do.

With a sigh, the major sank onto the mattress next to her husband. "You're right." The Cathar's ears twitched, and he raised one brow at her. Fynta smirked at the reaction. "I'll take it easy. I make no promises about how easy, but I won't rush headlong into a firefight until Elara is satisfied that I'm fully healed."

Jorgan stared at her for a long minute before nodding. "Fine. But you have to agree to take our suggestions under advisement."

"Deal."

Seemingly satisfied with her answer, Jorgan resumed his reading. "However," he began when Fynta got up to head to the bridge. "I was impressed with how you used the leg to block my shots."

"You're the one who pointed out that it was blaster-proof." He'd made the joke that they should coat her entire body in the same material.

As she laid a hand on the door handle, Fynta shot a glance over her shoulder. She flashed a wicked smile, "Just wait until I'm at peak performance again."

Jorgan rumbled a deep chuckle, and his eyes slid towards her. "Looking forward to it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an idea in the works for said shower distraction, simply because these two are insanely fun to write smut about. Maybe it'll find its way onto the site sooner or later.


	35. Old Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time to move into the Forged Alliance arc, which I always have so much fun with. So much shenanigans and snark ahead. Hope you all enjoy.

**Dromund Kaas  
** **Penthouse Suite**

Zolah Holran sat on the end of her bed glaring at the datapad in her hand. The numbers weren't adding up, and she couldn't figure out why. Theoretically speaking, this should work, yet every time she ran the simulation, her tactics failed. Were the Jedi really that good? Or was she giving them too much credit?

Long fingers brushed the back of Zolah's neck. She sighed and let the datapad fall into her lap, closing her eyes to enjoy the gentle massage. "You should be asleep," Vector yawned from where he lounged in her bed. Zolah had encouraged a few more indiscretions since the first time he'd comforted her, and she'd given up feeling guilty about it. Vector was reserved, polite, and achingly sweet. Were she a good woman, she'd have sent him away to find a proper mate. Far away. But, she hadn't. No, Zolah had clung to him like an escape pod on a doomed ship.

Vector had first peaked her interest when he encouraged her marriage to the boy on Voss to further their political interests. That was after they'd slept together. The Chiss had expected some kind of backlash from the Joiner, but none had come. He never balked when she chose to seduce a target, either. Seduction was easy and usually the quickest way to get what she needed. Plainly speaking, the man wasn't the jealous type.

The Chiss wondered how much of that was Vector's natural personality, and how much came from his unique position as a Joiner. Killiks didn't understand monogamy. Zolah wasn't certain she did either. A relationship where one person orchestrated the actions of another could only be doomed to failure. So, in some twisted way, she and Vector worked. They remained honest with one another, agreeing never to stand on circumstance. He would not attempt to mollify her with his diplomatic charm, and she would not manipulate him. As far as relationships went, they were fairly easy guidelines to follow.

One thing was certain. Vector represented tangible safety; pure goodness and devotion. It pained the Chiss to know that he would do whatever required to please her. Zolah wasn't sure she could return the favor. "Zolah?" Vector persisted, his all black eyes boring into her.

"Lana demands perfection," the Chiss growled when the screen lit up to inform her of another failed scenario. "I'm missing something blatantly obvious."

Fabric shifted as Vector moved behind her. His chin rested on Zolah's shoulder so he could read over the schematic. "May we?" He waited, hand outstretched as his arm snaked around her waist. Vector would never presume to read her personal material without permission. It was another thing Zolah could respect about her peculiar partner.

Placing the device in his hand, Zolah leaned against his chest while Vector held the datapad before them. "Have you factored in Sith?" He asked, voice melodious and calming as ever.

Zolah chewed on her lower lip and swiped across the screen to show him the scenario where a group of six Sith stormed the temple. "They ended up turning on one another." Sometimes Sith were bloody idiots. Zolah wondered how they'd ever managed to sack Coruscant, then remembered that quite a few Darths had fallen to red blades.

"What if there was only one?" Vector added, maneuvering the code with manicured fingers. "One Sith, and perhaps a small squad of soldiers to do their bidding."

Zolah sat forward as she watched the data coalesce into an elegant dance that ended with Jedi dead, and the temple ransacked. Her elation at finally having an answer was so great, that the Chiss turned and threw her arms around Vector's neck. He toppled back in surprise, landing with her across his chest. "You are absolutely brilliant sometimes."

Zolah planted a kiss on Vector's lips, smiling when his hands nestled around her waist. "We live to serve." His hands slid lower, and Zolah smirked.

"That will have to wait." The agent slid from his grasp and began to dress. "I need to get this to Lana and Darth Arkous immediately." Zolah paused when Vector propped up on his elbows to watch her. It would be so easy to slip out the door and not consider the feelings of the man on the bed. However, Zolah had promised herself to treat this relationship different from the others she toyed with, to ensure that Vector knew that he really did mean more to her than a dalliance. So, propping one knee on the bed, Zolah leaned in to kiss him properly. "Be here when I return."

The man's all black eyes glittered in the light from the datapad when she pulled back. "We shall not move from this spot."

Zolah chuckled and glided to the door, swinging her custom made jacket over her shoulders in the process. It was a little souvenir from her days with the SIS. Ardun Kothe never said she couldn't skim some of the crotosis alloy for her own purposes. All it had taken was smuggling one of those lightsaber resistant droids off Nar Shaddaa. No one had accounted for that when they used her keyword. Since then, this jacket had saved her life more than once.

"I'll be back soon," Zolah promised. They had a plan now. It was time to take Tython.

**The Thunderclap  
** **Seven months after Corellia**

_. . . ."The dead shouldn't be able to speak, much less appear."_

_Jorgan gaped at the shimmering silhouette of a woman. The apparition had short hair, but that was all the detail the Cathar could glean from the Jedi entity who sat before them._

_"The darkness will consume all it touches," the woman continued in haunting tones. "Stars will burn black, ashes raining on lifeless worlds. Everything ends. The prisoner holds the darkness at bay, lost inside it for three-hundred years. His strength will fail. Then, he will become the darkness."_

_Fynta never took her eyes off the woman while she spoke to the little, green alien at her side. "This prisoner has been fighting the Empire for centuries? How is he still alive?". . . ._

_. . . .The Maelstrom Nebula loomed before them, beautiful in purples and green as lightning that shouldn't exist in the vacuum of space arced from particle to particle throughout the electrically charged space cloud. "Once you are inside, there is only one hope of escape," Master Oteg explained. "You must free the Jedi prisoner. I've asked too much of you already, young ones, far too much. This mission will cost many lives before it is done."_

_"Havoc Squad gets the job done every time, sir," Fynta assured the Jedi Master. Then she looked at Jorgan, her expression stern instead of playful. . . ._

Aric woke with a gasp, as if his body had forgotten how to breathe while reliving _that_ mission every night. The Cathar rubbed both hands over his face and glanced over at Fynta just to make sure he hadn't woken her. The Maelstrom mission had been a success, neither of them had been injured, so why did it haunt his dreams relentlessly?

The chrono read 0200, a few more hours left before they continued on with their duties aboard the Thunderclap. Jorgan rolled onto his side and slipped an arm around his wife, smiling when she snuggled closer to him. Taking a deep breath to slow his pounding heart, Jorgan let himself slip back into sleep, knowing he wouldn't dream of the Maelstrom Prison again until tomorrow.

Hours later, Jorgan sat in the conference room with a newly disassembled blaster spread out on towels. He contented himself with checking and cleaning every part to stave off boredom. The last few months had been depressingly slow for Havoc Squad, apart from that mission involving the Jedi prisoner, of course. Even then, that had only included Fynta and Jorgan, not the entire squad.

Havoc's defeat of Rakton had thrust the black ops squad into the public eye, making covert missions unwise. They'd been sent to quell riots, track down targets of interest, and generally run errands for the Republic. One good thing had come of all the down time, though. Fynta had made a complete recovery. Not even Dorne fussed over her anymore. The major had even made good on her promise to not push her limits.

Fynta wandered into the conference room as if summoned by Jorgan's thoughts and flopped down in a seat across from him. Dorne followed, nose buried in her datapad as usual, and eased herself into a chair beside the major. The medic was so engrossed in her work, that she offered no indication that she was aware of her surroundings. Fynta raised an eyebrow at the other woman, then grinned at Jorgan. He got the impression the major had been leading Dorne all over the ship just to see if she would follow. There wasn't much else to do, after all.

"Fynta," Jorgan warned, successfully deterring his wife from whatever devious prank was forming in her mind. They'd all been aboard the Thunderclap with no new missions, but they remained out and available. That meant a lot of twiddling thumbs. So, the crew found ways to entertain themselves, not all of them appreciated.

Vik and Cormac had used C2-N2 for an experiment in a new type of armor they were developing for ordnance disposal. The armor failed, and Fynta launched the still burning droid and all their newly acquired kit out of the airlock. She threw a celebratory dinner later that evening, though she claimed it had nothing to do with being rid of the droid.

"I've nearly figured this out. I'm certain of it," Dorne interjected at random. Fynta leaned over to see what she was doing, then rolled her eyes.

Something crashed in the main room, cutting off Jorgan's question before it could form. He and Fynta both looked in the direction of the door, while Dorne remained glued to her datapad. "Vik!" Cormac cursed, appearing a second later with his head tilted to one side and soaking wet. "Permission to kill a Weequay, boss?"

Fynta grinned. "Depends, who's the Weequay?"

"Not Tanno Vik. Naturally."

"Shame, I might have granted that one," she teased, then hit the intercom switch in the middle of the table. "Vik. Get in here."

Vik had been the main source of contention lately. He was a big guy who needed a lot of room, trapped on a ship with a couple of other big guys and two dominate women. It was a recipe for flaring tempers and juvenile entertainment. Namely, placing a bucket of water above the refreshers and waiting for someone to trigger it.

Cormac stood over Dorne's shoulder, scowling down at the device in her hands. "She's had her nose buried in that file for two bloody months. Remind me to clout your brother if I ever meet him, Major." Verin had been so grateful for Elara's aid in saving Fynta's life that he managed to procure the diagrams to Fynta's cybernetic leg. No one had asked how the bounty hunter managed the task.

Ever since, the Havoc medic had spent her free time pouring over the information in an attempt to better understand how the technology worked. She and Yuun spent hours in silence, speaking only when one of them learned something particularly fascinating. Jorgan found their experiments on Fynta to be entertaining as well.

Vik skulked in, filling the doorway and purposefully avoiding looking at Cormac. Yuun squeezed in around him and lowered his head. "This Gand is here to accept punishment for his part in the ritual of comradery." Jorgan furrowed his brows at the lieutenant. Yuun only called himself Gand when he was ashamed, as if he'd lost his right to have a name. Everyone else stared in silence too, while Vik visibly shook with suppressed laughter.

Fynta looked from one to the other, then her expression changed to something more sinister. "That's a new low, even for you, Vik."

The big Weequay shrugged. "What? He asked for help understanding all the banter, and why we all find it so funny to insult each other." He held up a finger. "I was being constructive for once."

Fynta put her fingers to her temples and shook her head slowly. "Di'kut _._ Okay," she continued, looking around the squad. "If we don't get a job in the next two days, I'll find us somewhere off the grid to blow off some steam."

Vik clapped Yuun on the back hard enough to make the Gand stumble forward. "Sounds great, boss!" He turned on his heel, but Fynta called him back.

"Not so fast. One hundred and fifty push-ups by way of punishment for soaking my floor. After you clean it up." The major's attention switched to the Gand next. "Yuun, a word of advice. Don't _ever_ take lessons in socialization from a Weequay, especially Vik."

Vik opened his mouth to protest, but Jorgan cut him off. "You're getting off easy. I wouldn't push it." The Cathar folded the pieces of the blaster into the towel, fighting against the smile that tugged at his lips. "I'll be out there soon to make sure you don't miss any."

Vik muttered something that Jorgan didn't quite catch and trudged out of the room. Meanwhile, Cormac grinned like an idiot. "Don't get cocky," Fynta warned playfully, tipping her head in acknowledgment when Yuun took the seat next to Jorgan. The Gand settled into silence, resuming his habit of observing the squad.

"So what's this?" The major leaned forward and picked up the plasma converter to examine it. "These are the pieces you bought from that Nemoidian vendor."

"Just tinkering." Jorgan reached over and plucked the part from Fynta's hands so that he could fold it in with the rest. "Side project. You know, something to pass the time." In truth, it was a gift for her, but it was nowhere near ready.

Jorgan changed the subject by going to Fynta's second favorite topic. Food. "Hey, I was thinking. The latest Herald says a few nice restaurants are starting to open up in the old Galactic Market on Coruscant. Might be a nice place for dinner sometime, huh?" Fynta grinned at him, nodding enthusiastically. Jorgan chuckled as he folded that last piece of cloth over his project. "I'll see about making a reservation, a girl like you deserves better than pre-packed rations in the briefing room every night."

"Aw." Cormac feigned a swoon, and Fynta punched him.

Just as the sergeant opened his mouth to protest Fynta's brutal treatment, Elara leapt to her feet. "I've got it!" The medic beamed at the datapad until she realized everyone was staring at her. "Oh, sorry. I've broken the encryption, though; I understand how it works!" She scurried from the room, still carrying on about technicalities that Jorgan would never understand. "This will be incredibly useful in the future, no doubt the major will manage to injure herself again, and now I know of a faster way. . . ." Elara's voice trailed off as she moved out of earshot.

Fynta snorted in offence at the implication that she'd be wounded again so soon, and Cormac sighed. "Well, that's one down. Wonder what her next project will be?" The man smiled adoringly after his wife before pushing to his feet. "Guess I better get on some dry clothes." Cormac pulled his shirt over his head. "And do some laundry, this was my last clean shirt," the man muttered as he stalked off. A few seconds later, a wet snap resonated from the main room, and Vik yelped.

"E chu ta!" The Weequay swore, and something thudded against the wall. Jorgan decided he didn't care what it was.

"It's like having kids," Fynta chuckled, leaning back in her chair to see through the doorway.

Jorgan offered wary snort of laughter. "Our kids will be better behaved," he remarked as he stood. Fynta's head snapped around the way it always did when the subject of kids arose. Mandalorians were no strangers to adoption, but Jorgan got the impression that being a mother terrified the major as much as marriage had. In the end, Jorgan had faith she'd come around. He kissed her on top of the head as he headed for their room.

As the Cathar stowed Fynta's gift in the back of his locker, his eyes instinctively went to his datapad on the desk. There was a message on it that he hadn't managed to bring himself read yet. It had come as a surprise, arriving without warning or explanation.

Running his thumb absently over the unlock command, Jorgan reread the opening message to a file that he'd obsessed over his entire first year with Havoc.

Sender: Major Fynta Wolfe.  
Subject: Resource 475-0RC.

_Here I am, love. My entire career declassified. This file contains every mission report and supervisor note from my time with Epoch. I thought it was high time you learned who the woman you chose to spend your life with really was. I just hope you don't regret your decision after you've read it. Never doubt my loyalty to you, riduur. Things are different for Major Wolfe than they were for Resource 475-0RC. A lot of things._

Jorgan stared at the attachment. It was massive; there was a lot of information about his wife in there that he probably couldn't fathom. He let his touch hover over the device, teetering on the edge of finally peeking into Fynta's past. With a hiss, the Cathar withdrew hand and rubbed it down his face. Whatever lay locked away in Fynta's past, Jorgan knew he wasn't ready just yet.

**Republic Space Station**

The squad outing came by way of a local space station on the edge of the Core Worlds. It was a military establishment, so there was no need to worry about who might recognize Havoc. Just a little area away from post to give soldiers the feeling of having a night off without getting _too_ far away.

Fynta addressed the squad. "Alright, we'll meet back at the ship in four hours. Have some fun, but keep your comms on in case we get a call." The squad gave a murmur of acknowledgment and split off in different directions. The place was large enough to house a few casinos, restaurants, and cantinas. Not to mention a couple of word-of-mouth brothels. They weren't supposed to exist, but places like this provided a steady flow of income for pimps and madams. So long as disease and violence remained at a minimum, command turned a blind eye.

"We should go somewhere nice," Aric commented as they walked. He was in a good mood, proven by the fact that he'd even been nice to Vik all day.

Fynta kept pace easily now. She had finally gotten the hang of the whole prosthetic leg thing, mastering the art of _letting her_ _leg be a leg_ , as Jorgan so eloquently put it. Despite the number of times the Cathar had grouched at Fynta over the years, he'd always supported her when it mattered. Whether coming to her defense, or taking her anger when she couldn't hold it in any longer.

Over the preceding months, Jorgan had waited patiently while Fynta worked out how to coexist with her new tech. Now, there were times when she forgot it was alien to her body. Not often, but a few. The ache in Fynta's hip and spine where the metal wired into her nervous system became less noticeable with each passing day. All in all, Fynta had begun to feel optimistic about living a normal life again.

Jorgan took a deep breath and let it out in a contented sigh. Fynta eyed the Cathar suspiciously. "Okay, what's going on?" She asked. "You're never this relaxed." The major followed her statement up with a sly smile, "Well, almost never." They'd figured _that_ part out just recently. It had taken some creativity, because her flexibility still wasn't what it used to be, but the experience had been lighthearted and fun. Both had been reduced to fits of laughter before they finally found a position that would work.

Jorgan ignored her remark, nodding to a couple of passing troops who elbowed each other and tried to point discretely at the squad insignia. _Yeah, Havoc Squad isn't a secret anymore_. "Just nice to stretch my legs," he finally responded, bringing Fynta's attention back around. "We've been cooped up too long."

Fynta couldn't argue there. After three years of bouncing from one op to the next with only travel time to catch their breaths, this lull in activity since Corellia made them all antsy. "We could always stop off at the shooting range and see what's new."

"My kind of woman," the Cathar rumbled. Jorgan liked his guns as much as any Mando. He was a sniper, guns brought him to life in a way nothing else could. Including Fynta.

"Alright, here's the plan. We stop off for some caf, then go to the range for—"

A little T3-G2 unit rolled into Fynta's shins, cutting her off mid-sentence. It gave an annoyed chirp, accompanied by an ear piercing whistle. "Hey, you ran into me, little guy," she protested. It rammed her shins again, then rolled off into an empty storeroom. Fynta and Jorgan exchanged a look of confusion. Then, the T3 unit appeared in the doorway again and gave another shrill whistle.

"Think it wants us to follow it?" Jorgan asked.

"Shab." Fynta closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance before walking into the dark room. She'd been looking forward to that cup of caf. The destruction twins had used Havoc's decanter to mix chemicals for their latest experiments, and when Elara found out, she had made them throw it away. Fynta hadn't had a good cup of coffee since.

The astromech wobbled excitedly at their comprehension and tittered on. "Sorry, little guy," Fynta interrupted. "All my droids speak Basic."

T3 gave a sad moan and opened a holo link. The man who appeared had dark hair, a muscular build, and an attractive face despite his implants. Fynta swallowed hard. It was fierfeking Theron Shan. "Hey," he said, uncharacteristically chipper, unless he'd changed a lot since Fynta's days with Epoch. She highly doubted it. "The commander of Havoc Squad. You've really outdone yourself, Tee-three."

Jorgan joined Fynta in the holo's field of view, casting a sidelong glance in her direction, before addressing Theron. "Who are you?" Fynta could tell that the Cathar's defenses had gone up by the stiffness in his shoulders. No doubt her open shock had triggered it.

Theron locked eyes with Fynta for a second before shifting his attention to Jorgan. "I'm with the SIS," he replied with an almost smile. "We've got a special event coming up, and you're on the guest list."

Jorgan had bought Fynta the time she needed to recover her composure. She cleared her throat and replied in a tone that was a lot steadier than she felt. If Theron was involved, it couldn't be good. "What kind of special event?"

"The kind the Empire won't enjoy. Details when we meet in person. See you soon." The holo cut off, and the astromech beeped cheerfully, his mission a success. Fynta's datapad buzzed with incoming coordinates for the meeting.

_Fierfek_.

Fynta radioed the rest of the squad to let them know of the possibility of a job. Cormac and Dorne had agreed to stand by, the big man claiming he was starting to get flabby anyway. Vik had been more difficult to reach, but Fynta left a message that if he didn't report, she'd ensure he'd never need a brothel again. Yuun had offered to accompany them to the rendezvous, but Fynta assured him it wasn't necessary.

When the two Havoc commanders stepped onto the lift, Jorgan cleared his throat. Fynta sighed and leaned her head against the wall, steeling herself for his anger. "You should know, Theron and I aren't exactly strangers. We've . . . _worked_ together before." She cut her eyes at the security camera, unwilling to go into more detail.

Jorgan's eyes widened when he realized what Fynta was trying to tell him. She saw the beginnings of a snarl in the twitch of his lips, until he swallowed it and nodded. The doors opened before Jorgan could ask any questions, and Fynta stepped out without another word.

The Cathar grabbed Fynta's arm to hold her back and lowered his voice. "Just so I know what we are walking into, did it ended badly?" Had she not sworn to be honest with him, she would have lied and told him that it had. But, she couldn't do that.

Fynta sighed. "It never officially ended." Jorgan's fingers slipped from Fynta's arm. The expression of shock on his face twisted her stomach, and she hastily added. "We haven't seen each other in four years. It's—complicated."

Jorgan's brow furrowed as he crossed his arms. "Sounds like it." They stared at one another in silence while a couple of officers passed. Once they'd vanished, Jorgan started again. "He's SIS, right?"

"A damn good one too." Although, Fynta hated admitting it out loud. Theron and she had butted heads more than once in their time together. That hadn't stopped them from doing other things, of course.

"Think he's kept up with your career?" Jorgan asked, unable to hide the edge in his voice. It took Fynta a few seconds to follow his line of thought. When she finally caught up, Fynta couldn't believe she hadn't considered it before. There was a chance that Theron had talked with Balkar, who had figured out finally that Fynta was no longer available. It hadn't stopped the man from flirting, but he knew nonetheless.

"Dunno," Fynta replied, bouncing on her toes. "But, I bet he's been digging since our holo conversation."

Jorgan nodded and reached out to pull Fynta's hand away from the necklace she'd twisted all the way to her throat. He nodded towards the room where Theron waited and smiled. "We've got this." Fynta took a deep breath, relieved that Jorgan had taken her revelation in stride. Surely, if Balker could figure it out, Theron would too. Granted, that outcome had risks of its own.

**Temporary Republic Ops Command**

". . . .Blue squadron approaches Korriban at maximum speed. Bombing commences on signal _AUREK_. Wave one shuttle follows and secures the LZ." Colonel Darok waved his hand over the holotable to shuffle the transparent figures around.

"Then wave two comes in. Perfect timing," Theron added. The SIS agent glanced up when one of his implants registered the new arrivals. He'd patched into the station's cameras to watch Fynta and the Cathar's approach, though she'd done a pretty good job of keeping them both out of sight. It was good to know that life on the battlefield hadn't erased those years of training he'd put into her.

The major of Havoc Squad walked up to the table to examine the map, making no indication that she knew Theron. Her shock at finding him on the holo had been the highlight of Theron's day. However, face to face, there was clearly something different about the woman. She was older, more mature; not a word Theron ever thought he'd use to describe the spunky blond.

The Cathar, Captain Aric Jorgan, sucked in a breath as he leaned next to Fynta. "You're actually planning an attack on Korriban?"

Darok nodded, crossing his arms with a pleased expression. "It's already in motion, and your part in the plan is critical." Theron resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Leave it to the big army grunt to lay claim to the idea of bringing Havoc squad in.

Channeling some of his limited patience, Theron waved his hand at the big man. "This is Colonel Darok, he's in charge of the op. Colonel, this is Major Fynta Wolfe, leader of Havoc Squad. She and I go way back, she'll get the job done."

Fynta kept her tone business like while all the proper acknowledgments were made, which threw Theron a little. A part of him had been expecting the smart mouthed Mando punk he'd met years ago, instead of this polished military commander before him. "So, we're invading Korriban, take me through your plan."

The four ops coordinators spent the next hour going over Havoc's role and various contingency plans. At the end of it all, Fynta gave the men a curt nod. "Havoc Squad won't let you down." On the surface, she portrayed the stoic officer, but Theron could see the whirl of excitement in her eyes and knew he'd picked the right woman for the job. The captain, however, looked less enthused. Especially when he caught Theron's eye. The SIS agent bit back a shiver. The glowing, colorful eyes of Cathar had always unnerved him a little.

When Darok dismissed Havoc, Theron called after Fynta. "Major, a word before you leave." She and Jorgan both stopped, so Theron clarified. "Privately."

Fynta nodded to her XO, who looked on the verge of protesting. "Jorgan, get the rest of the squad aboard the ship and ready to move out. I'll be there shortly." Theron could almost _hear_ the silent argument between them before the Cathar nodded and stalked off. The SIS agent wondered idly if Fynta worked as closely with the captain as she had with him, then shook that idea away. It wasn't heading anywhere good.

"He seems like a barrel of laughs," Theron commented, leaning against the holotable and idly swiping through files on his datapad. He kept a close eye on Fynta's right hand, just in case it strayed towards to her blaster. The last time they'd seen one another, she'd shot him. Hopefully, her temper had matured too.

"You should have seen him four years ago," Fynta remarked, propping her hip against the terminal next to Theron, but not too close he noticed. "That's an improvement."

Theron chuckled and put the datapad down. "How's the leg?" Fynta arched an eyebrow, and he shrugged. "I like to keep up with my former students. Plus, Balkar ratted you out."

Fynta snorted. "I'll be sure to thank him for that."

The SIS agent chuckled again, not able to find it within himself to worry over the fact that Fynta had dodged his question. Their relationship had never been one of best friends, or even lovers. They had always been two forces who collided when they veered too close to one another, then shot back off into their own corners of the galaxy.

"I won't keep you," Theron smirked, retrieving his datapad. "Maybe we can grab a drink when all of this is over. You know, catch up." Even while his eyes were on the device, he watched Fynta in his peripheral. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion; Theron was remarkably pleased by that reaction. "Anyway, better get going. Wouldn't want to keep your XO waiting. He looks like he's ready to pull something apart, and I'd rather it be Imperials than me."

Fynta's brow quirked upward, then her face split into a wide grin. Theron grumbled silently at the unease that expression still produced. "I'll leave my technical analyst behind. I've got a feeling you'll need him." She patted his shoulder, and Theron _almost_ flinched. "See you around, Shan."

Theron looked up to protest, then shook his head. Fynta Wolfe was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After reading a few rather well written fics about the agent and Vector, I've found myself looking at him in a new light. Since my agent is Chiss, who come with their own strange, non-human properties, I'm not going to focus as much on Vector's attempt to reclaim his humanity. To be honest, I don't see it as much as an issue with an alien agent vs. a human agent. I do, however, look forward to exploring a more forward, less naive version of Vector.


	36. Mass Offensive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I've always been drawn to the idea that no matter which side a person is on, they believe they are in the right. The Forged Alliance flashpoints gave me a fun opportunity to explore this concept. So here we go.

**Korriban  
** **Republic Ground Team**

Korriban was the reddest planet that Cormac had ever seen. The Sith planet boasted a complete lack of foliage according to what little information the Republic had been able to gather. Cormac leaned out of the open door of the drop ship, holding tightly to the railings above, and marveled at the rocky terrain below. Intel also claimed there was little in the way of native fauna, just a couple species that nightmares were made of, namely the monstrous scorpion-bugs things with a lot of teeth. Elara called them Klor'slugs, claiming they were fascinating. No one else agreed with her.

Over all, Korriban was depressing, drab, and dead. No wonder they trained Sith here. Cormac hefted his weapon, noting the added weight of his new slugthrower. Fynta and Jorgan had insisted that everyone in Havoc switch to the heavier weapons for this operation. Even the boss had traded in her ugly rifle for the more potent model. They had studied up on Force users after facing down the Sith on Voss, and the commanders had deemed that luck killed Lord Torius. Skill had nothing to do with it. Metal projectiles apparently didn't bounce off energy blades the same way plasma bolts did, increasing the squad's survival odds.

As far as Havoc missions went, this was a little more complicated. Cormac juggled three comlink channels: Havoc's, the fleet's, and the main channel that Colonel Darok issued orders over. Normally, grunts like Cormac only had to worry about the first two; the third being left to the commander. But, since they were all _so_ special, Shan had patched all of Havoc into control. Balic didn't know if Darok had been informed of that, so he kept his mouth shut. The trouble was, everyone seemed to be barking orders in Balic's ear at once, making it nearly impossible to separate one order from another.

Then, a familiar voice filled his helmet. "Everyone stay on the Havoc channel for now. Jorgan and I will monitor the others. Let them do their job, and we'll do ours." _Bless you, Fynta_ , Cormac thought before gladly shutting out all the extra noise.

The main line clicked as another link joined in, and before Cormac could take a breath, a new voice came online. "I had Yuun patch me into your squad so that I could keep an eye on your progress." The voice was fairly deep with a hint of sarcasm underlying it. Cormac guessed that must be Agent Theron Shan. "Darok can handle the army, you're my project, so don't make me look bad."

"Fine," Fynta responded. "But, keep the line clear and don't distract my soldiers, Shan."

"Ouch, last name only," Theron chuckled. The major had admitted to Elara in private that she had history with the SIS agent, however, she'd remained vague on the exact details. What little Elara had shared, along with Jorgan's generally sour mood, had given Cormac all information he needed. After a brief discussion over whether or not to offer support, Balic and Elara had decided that it would be better if they kept their noses out of the situation all together. The only problem was, Cormac had never been good at that sort of thing.

Yuun clicked something in the background, but Cormac didn't catch it. Theron snorted a laugh before continuing, "Hey, can I borrow him from time to time? He's really handy."

"That is up to Yuun. We're approaching the landing zone now," Fynta answered in a clipped manner. Cormac felt the urge to say something encouraging, then physically bit his tongue. It _really_ wasn't any of his business.

"One hundred meters," Jorgan reported out of nowhere. It was the first time he'd spoken since Havoc left the space station. "Fifty . . . thirty . . . ten."

"Everyone out," Fynta ordered. Havoc Squad jumped in unison, not waiting for the dropship to land, making them the first boots to touch ground in the second wave. Cormac took a moment to get his bearings and situate the sun with the map on his HUD, a habit hardwired into him from all the extreme climate training he'd done back when he was a freshy. Terrain could transform in the blink of an eye, and technology could only get a person so far. If a soldier wanted to ensure they found their way home, the sun was the best way to go.

Having gotten his bearings, Cormac took a moment to examine the scenery in their direct vicinity. "This place is an osik pit," he decided out loud. The planet was just as red on the ground as it had looked from overhead. It was hard to know if Korriban had always been this desolate, or if the bombings had torn it apart.

" _Well, that's one question answered. Theron to wave two. Welcome to Korriban. You'll need to traverse the Wilds up ahead to reach the Sith Academy."_

Cormac had no idea what the guy meant until Fynta responded that there were no secrets in her squad. That's when Cormac realized he'd used Mando'a. It had become so ingrained in all of them that it didn't sound foreign anymore. "Turns out it's an easy system of morals to adopt," Fynta continued. "And everyone loves learning new cuss words."

"I'm still not convinced," Shan replied. "Hey, are you okay, Captain? Your heart rate's a little elevated. Unless that's normal for a Cathar."

"Perfectly normal," Elara cut in, rescuing Shan from the growl that was sure to follow. She was Jorgan's doctor, after all, no one would argue with her.

This time, Cormac decided to ignore the common sense part of his mind that said to leave an angry Cathar alone, and opened a private line to the captain. "Just hang in there," he encouraged. Havoc had begun making their way down a steep embankment that led into a valley of sharp rocks and ambush ready choke points. "We all know where the major's loyalty lies."

Cormac expected a dressing down for meddling in the commander's private life, but the big Cathar sighed in response. "Yeah, thanks." All things considered, that was the best outcome he could have hoped for, so Balic carried on in silence.

 **Orbit above Tython  
** **Imperial Dreadnaught**

Blue and red lights from the computer terminals scattered about the room reflected off the shimmering display on the holotable. Zolah watched as battle cruisers and starfighters descended on the Jedi planet, raining destruction down on everything. It had taken months and endless calculations to reach this point. She, Vector, and Lana Beniko had stayed up many an hour surviving on caf and stims in order to account for every contingency. Finally, it was all coming to fruition.

"Do you understand your part in this?"

Lana's question pulled Zolah's attention from the display. The Sith advisor was talking to a skinny little Cathar female. Solish Rasik favored wearing a golden, feline mask whenever she was out in public to hide her true origins, but Lana had given Zolah access to the Sith's dossier. A Cathar Sith, especially one of such renown, was a treat, were it not for her _peculiarities_. At Solish's side stood a Dashade; an ancient, fearsome soul eater that the Sith had somehow managed to wrestle from the bowls of Korriban itself. Zolah had pitched Vector's idea of a single Sith infiltration, and this was the creature Lana had supplied.

Solish looked up at her companion. "Khem, are you hungry?" He rumbled an answer in a language that not even Zolah's advanced implants could translate. Whatever he'd said, it amused the little Sith greatly. "We are ready," she replied, returning her attention to Lana.

"Excellent, your shuttle is waiting." Lana dipped her head. "May the Force serve you."

After watching the duo retreat, Lana joined Zolah at the table. "Are you sure about those two?" The Chiss agent asked. "I've read some disturbing things. Possession by Sith ghosts has surely addled her mind."

A faint smile touched Lana's lips. "Yes, I imagine you'd know, wouldn't you?" Zolah narrowed her eyes in warning, but Lana waved the scowl away. "Solish is indeed unbalanced, but she's also a skilled warrior who has proven adept at resisting mind control. Who better to send into the depths of a Jedi temple?"

The logic was sound, but the Dashade still concerned Zolah. "Does Darth Zash still speak through the creature?" Solish's old master had attempted to take control of her apprentice's body, but something had gone wrong, forcing the ancient Sith to share headspace with the Dashade. Rumor had it, the old master still aided her student when she could wrestle control from Khem Val. It was an—odd, relationship.

"I haven't asked," Lana responded with a shrug. "It is a touchy subject, or so I've heard. If she does, then Solish's pet is protected as well. Win-win, no?"

Zolah watched the blond Sith for a moment before switching her attention back to the holo. "We shall see."

 **Korriban**  
**Republic Infiltration Site**

"Wave one managed to soften the Imps up a bit, but you've still got your work cut out for you. Good luck." Theron's voice cut out, and Jorgan found that he could breathe easier. _Get it together and deal with this later_ , he scolded himself silently. While Fynta might bring out the best in him, she'd also revealed a few of the Cathar's less attractive characteristics. Such as jealousy.

Jorgan's HUD flashed red to get his attention, and he forced all other thoughts aside. "Life signs ahead. Multiple thermal readings."

"Humanoid or animal?" Fynta asked, calling for a halt.

"Hard to say. They are pretty tightly packed." Jorgan patched his feed through to the major. They hadn't spoken much on the Thunderclap, and he regretted that now. Jorgan wanted to clear the air between them, but the time for that had passed. He couldn't help but remind himself that this was exactly why these relationships were prohibited.

The comm clicked, and Theron came back on line, setting Jorgan's teeth on edge. "Imperial defenders have a barricade up ahead. There's no time to go around, so you'll have to go through."

Jorgan caught Cormac's movement in his peripheral. The man squatted, one hand flattened against the ground. "I'm picking up some low level seismic activity," he said at last. "Is that normal for this planet?"

"Not that I know of, let me check a few things," Shan answered.

Cormac's helmet tipped to the side as if he were trying to hear better, and Jorgan bet the man had his ambient noise turned all the way up. "There are creatures who burrow through the ground," Yuun added just as Cormac stood. "Some large, some small. Travel carefully, my friends."

"Yuun might be onto something," Cormac responded again. "These readings are too small and shallow to be normal, planetary shifting."

"Regardless, our job remains the same. Keep an eye on that Cormac." Fynta motioned everyone down behind a small hill, then flopped onto her belly to peek over the rise through her scope. "Vik, got anything to send to our hosts?" She asked, helmet jerking in the direction of the densest heat signature.

The Weequay already had his pack open, rummaging through. "I might have packed a few toys," Vik responded. He finally found what he was searching for and crawled forward on his stomach to prop his rifle barrel on the rock in front of him. "I've been looking for an excuse to try this baby out." The Weequay's weapon was a heavily modified piece and could attach multiple barrels. Two more than what was considered legal in the Galactic Republic, but Fynta pretended not to notice.

"Oh, is that the—"

"Yep," Vik said, cutting Cormac off. Apparently the two had put their heads together again, coming up with ever more creative ways to take things apart. Cormac's official title in the squad was Environmental Preparedness, but he'd trained in demolitions as well. Meaning there was never a shortage of explosions when Havoc was involved. Fynta encouraged this, of course.

"Are we far enough away?" Cormac asked, edging closer to Elara.

"More or less," Vik shrugged. "Everyone wearing their best beskar'gam? Good." The weapon made an almost subsonic _whoomph_ that rattled Jorgan's teeth. Then, the horizon turned white, followed by a deluge of rocks and dirt. Everyone made themselves as small as possible in hopes of avoiding the bigger chunks.

When the bombardment of rubble stopped, Fynta pushed back onto her elbows. "Everyone still alive?" It was the traditional sitrep request after every detonation. It struck Jorgan how common that phrase had become, and how much his view on things had changed. Explosions ceased to be a concern anymore.

"That was a work of pure artistry." Vik gave a mock sniffle as he clambered back to his feet. "Anyway, should be clear now."

"You people are crazy," Shan broke in. "That thing registered on the satellite! I think Yuun might be grinning."

"We like to take the path of least resistance when possible," Fynta answered. Jorgan didn't know about Yuun, but she definitely was.

Cormac jogged to the top of the hill and looked over. "Well, they aren't resisting anymore." Jorgan joined him, not quite prepared for what he saw. The entire area had been reduced to one big crater. Everything had either been vaporized or thrown into the atmosphere in a massive column of debris that stretched kilometers into the sky.

"Just, don't ever use that on a Republic world," Shan grumbled. "Might cause it to shift into an ice age or something."

"You worry too much, Shan," Fynta responded, her helmet turned towards Jorgan, and he was sure she'd winked, a signal that all was well. Jorgan allowed himself a light chuckle and followed Fynta down the newly added decline. The air between them unofficially cleared.

 **Orbit above Tython  
** **Imperial Command Ship**

Zolah's screen flashed bright enough that she had to avert her eyes. When it dimmed again, Solish stood in the midst of five still smoking corpses in light brown robes. "Pitiful little things," the Cathar remarked as she stepped over the charred Padawans. "If they'd only been trained properly."

The Dashade and Sith were an efficient team of death. Solish's control of Force lightning was unrivaled. The woman could channel it from her body, through the ground, and into the bodies of her adversaries in an alarming radius. "Those Padawans were at least twenty meters away," Zolah remarked, rubbing her chin in thought.

Solish lacked nothing in flare either. So far, Zolah had seen an impressive variety of ways to kill by electrocution. The woman had barely even activated her lightsaber. Most impressive of all, had been the time she had arced lightning through seven different opponents, striking each in the center of their chest. The Twi'lek freedom fighters had fallen like dominoes.

"I thought you'd like her," Lana replied with a smile. "Her saber skill could use some refining, but she hardly needs the blade."

The Dashade grumbled something, and Solish sighed. "Very well, a quick snack, then we must continue. They are counting on us, after all." The hint of sarcasm was not lost on the ops coordinators. Lana and Zolah shared a look, and the blond Sith almost rolled her eyes.

Lana leaned forward to active the comm. "Darth Solish, you are nearing the Jedi temple, I'd advise caution, there is likely to be heavy resistance."

The Cathar turned her eyes directly to the view screen, and Zolah felt a chill run down her spine. When she responded, it was in the same, girlish tone of the completely insane. "Let them come."

Zolah and Lana stood side by side, watching the assault team destroy all who stood in their path. The temple came into view, and Lana leaned forward. "Amazing, no one has ever come this far before," the woman breathed. There was a reverence in her tone that confused Zolah. At least, until she remembered that this wasn't just a building to the Sith. It was the physical embodiment of everything they hated. Somehow, Lana didn't strike Zolah as the power hungry, hate filled Sith. Truth be told, the Chiss actually rather liked the woman.

"Something is wrong," Solish said at last. Zolah saw what she meant a moment before the Sith continued. "I've killed nothing but Padawans and a couple of lower level knights. Where are the masters?"

It was a valid question. Zolah looked up to find Darth Arkous, then realized she hadn't seen him in a couple of hours. She needed him to reach out to his contact, to find out why the Jedi homeworld was so poorly guarded. "Where is your master, Lana?"

The woman's lips pressed into a tight line at the honorific, but she didn't comment on it. "He's gone to see Lord Goh off. He will be responsible for the collection of data from the temple. I imagine he thought it prudent to send him early given Solish's success."

Zolah considered the screen again before responding to the Sith's concerns. "The objective remains the same. Continue with the plan, Darth Solish." The next step was to gain access to the main library where their holocrons were said to be held. If they'd planned this right, the Jedi wouldn't have had time to move the historical devices before rushing to defend their world. Zolah had been assured by Arkous himself that she would be involved in the interpretation of some of those artifacts. Of course, Zolah wouldn't lose sight of her main mission. _If only you could see us now, Rakton, you'd be so pleased._

 **Korriban  
** **Sith Academy**

"We're here," Dorne breathed. The elevator stopped at the entrance to an ancient, red clay building. Fynta felt cold all over as she stepped off the platform. She led the way up the steep permacrete and dirt covered ramp, pausing to scan for life signs inside the foyer. The moment she stepped over the threshold, it felt as if all the hope and joy had been sucked out of the world. The major gave herself a shake to stay focused and noticed everyone else doing the same.

"This place is awful," Dorne whispered again, no longer sounding amazed. "If only the people of the Empire knew who they truly served." Fynta felt for her friend, who clearly lamented her time taking orders from depraved murderers. That, and Elara's family was still loyal to the Empire.

Havoc crept deeper, a weight settling in Fynta's chest. This place put her on edge; made her jumpy. The major cleared her throat to focus the squad before speaking. "Let's split up. Dorne and Vik, you're with Jorgan. Cormac, with me." No one spoke as they broke into smaller groups. Each took one of the once lavishly carved staircases that stood to either side of the central room. Now, everything was bombed to osik, leaving them in shambles.

"Watch your step. These floors have seen better days," Jorgan commented as rubble tumbled down the stairs.

"Contact!" Vik's rifle fire filled Fynta's helmet for a brief second before the automatic control lowered the volume to protect her ears.

"We've got company too, boss," Cormac called, opening fire on a red skinned Sith Pureblood. The skinny male batted the bolts back at them the first few tries, then took one to the head and fell limp. They crept closer to make sure it wasn't a ruse. "Fierfek," Cormac spat. "It was a kid!"

"Same here," Jorgan reported. "Looks like they've got the students guarding the place."

"Then where are the masters?" Fynta asked. It was a shame that these probably weren't going to be the last kids they killed, but she couldn't let herself dwell on it. It was a do or die situation, and lamenting the unfairness of life wouldn't change the outcome. Mercifully, the building shook around them, providing a distraction from the morbid job ahead. It also signaled the beginning of the next wave of Republic bombings. "Let's get to the Dark Council chambers before this building is reduced to rubble."

Havoc squad encountered a few more apprentices of varying ages on their way up to the top of the building. They were preparing to breach a heavily blockaded door when Theron came back online after being oddly silent. "Okay, you're at the Dark Council chambers. Be careful, I don't have any mapping of this part of the building. It's shielded or something."

The door blew inwards, and Fynta hefted her rifle. "Vik, Dorne, watch the door," she ordered as she continued in, flanked by her two best shots.

"Only the greatest of all Sith are permitted to set foot in these chambers," a deep voice boomed off the walls. "You profane our entire history by your presence alone." Jorgan spotted the target first. His sniper training kicked in, and he fired two shots. Fynta looked up in time to see them both ricochet off a red blade. Then, the Sith, another Pureblood, stepped off the shoulder of a fifteen meter tall statue and landed hard on the floor. She had to admit, it was a hell of an entrance.

Jorgan fired again, testing for a weakness in the Sith defense, and Fynta and Cormac joined. The Sith deflected their bolts with ease, but not before taking a step back. This time he didn't deactivate his weapon. "If it's my lightsaber you want, rest assured, you'll have it," he sneered, stalking towards the three soldiers.

"That's Darth Soverus," Theron cut in. "He's as bad as they come."

"Anything useful, Shan?" Jorgan growled.

" _Unfortunately, no."_

"Then stay off the comm," Fynta added, keeping her eyes on the Sith. They didn't need someone to tell them the odds, they needed a strategy. "Dorne, Vik, move in and flank him. Maybe if we surround this guy we can overwhelm him."

"Why not just blow him up like the others?" Vik asked.

If he'd been close enough, Fynta would have smacked the Weequay. "Because this is the only room on this dirt ball that we need to keep standing."

"Right."

The Sith stood in the center of the room, completely unperturbed by the five commandos surrounding him. Fynta gave the command to fire at will, and what followed was complete chaos. Soverus danced in the center of their combined blasts, twirling his lightsaber and bouncing the bolts back at them.

Someone hissed, and Fynta saw Cormac drop to one knee, relaxing only slightly when he kept firing. Then, the Sith's voice filled the room again, much louder than it should have been. "Why do you fight when you cannot win?" he asked, and suddenly, Fynta's feet weren't on the floor anymore. "Now witness true strength."

Fynta's armor felt as if it was growing smaller, squeezing the life from her. Every joint in her body screamed in protest at the pressure being put on them, and she was sure her left hip was being wrenched from its artificial socket. Someone gasped for air, it sounded like Vik. Jorgan snarled, and Elara cried out. Even Theron's distant voice no longer coalesced into discernible speech. Her squad's desperate attempts to free themselves broke the spell that the pain held over Fynta's mind, focusing her on a single goal. A'den.

If Fynta was going down, she was taking the red skinned bastard with her. Raising her rifle with painful determination, the major continued firing, trying to ignore the agony growing in her chest. She was vaguely aware of at least one or two others doing the same.

The edges of Fynta's vision had started to dim when she was flung to the floor, all of the pressure suddenly gone. The major gulped in oxygen desperately as she checked life signs. Everyone still had a beating heart, though there was a lot of panting and coughing over the comms.

Fynta scrambled to her feet, weapon trained on the Sith that lay in the middle of the floor with a growing pool of dark blood beneath him. Someone had gotten off a lucky shot while he was distracted. "Someone take care of that ori'jagyc for me," Fynta growled as she stumbled to the computer terminal to finish the mission.

A rifle cracked, and Theron came online again. "A Jedi named Jensyn will be there shortly to collect the data. Come on home, Havoc."

**Orbit above Tython  
Jedi Temple**

Master Oric Traless was an impressive opponent. On more than one occasion, Solish had been forced to deflect the debris he hurled at her. Zolah marveled at the fact that the Cathar's access to Force lightning had never weakened. In fact, the little Sith seemed to grow stronger throughout the battle. Khem Val lay unconscious to the side of the room, having taken a huttball sized boulder to the head. Solish battled on, closing the distance between herself and the Nautolan Jedi Master.

At last, their blades connected, filling the audio feed with an electric sizzle that threatened to overpower the sound filters. "As if it wasn't enough to sense your presence, you seem to have a need to do everything as loudly as possible," the Jedi remarked with a quirk of his lips.

Unease pulled at Zolah, and she spared a glance at Lana. Traless didn't sound even slightly winded, yet the battle had raged on for more than ten minutes. So, it was a surprise when Solish answered in kind. "I like to see the fear in my prey's eyes before we devour them. I like for them to know I'm coming." The small Sith, only coming to the Jedi's shoulder, leaned into her blade. "Like the fear I see in yours."

With a suddenness that surprised everyone, Solish flipped backwards, then threw her arms straight out in front of her. The action sent the Jedi tumbling off balance, and the Cathar hurled another storm of lightning at him. This one was brighter, almost blue in its intensity. It caught Traless in the stomach, and his body went rigid as electricity destroyed his cells.

Zolah watched the green lightsaber fall from the Jedi's hand, deactivating when it clattered to the floor. Then, he collapsed onto his knees, smoke rolling from his shoulders. The Nautolan gasped, head hanging between his shoulders as his entire body shuddered with pain. When his arms gave out, the Jedi lay sprawled across the floor. Only then, did Solish deactivate her lightsaber.

Movement caught Zolah's attention. Khem Val had regained consciousness and began to clamber to his feet. "There . . . is no—death," the Jedi rasped from where his face pressed into the once polished tile.

Solish stalked forward, squatting next to Traless, and lifted his head by the tendrils that protruded from his scalp. "For you, my dear Jedi, there is." The Sith stepped aside as Khem Val lifted Traless completely off the floor by his throat. The Dashade rumbled something, looking to Solish for permission. She patted the creature's bicep, "Eat up."

Master Oric Traless's scream followed Solish from the room.

"I believe my part in this is done, no?" The Cathar asked in a deceptively sweet voice.

Zolah leaned forward to press the intercom key. "It is, my lord. Report back to the ship at your convenience."

Once the Sith had cut the transmission, Zolah looked to Lana. "Yes, well, she's a bit brutal I'll admit," the blond woman said defensively. Zolah thought that was a gross understatement. However, she couldn't deny that the two made an exceptional team. Not that her opinion was weighed heavily in this regard.

"They are useful," the Chiss finally conceded. Her answer appeared to placate Lana, and the blond strode off to find her master. Zolah pulled up a still of the battle, examining every angle of this new, more deadly Force Lightning that Solish had conjured. If it proved one thing, it was that a Sith as powerful as Solish Rasik was a better ally than enemy. Zolah would have to tread carefully. Still, that didn't stop her from forming contingency plans, should they ever need to remove her as a threat. Briefly, the Chiss wondered if Castellan restraints worked on Force users. It might be worth looking into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> A'dan [AH-den] wrath, rage
> 
> ori'jagyc [OH-ree-JAHG-eesh] swaggering big-mouth - someone who picks on someone smaller - lit. big man said sarcastically,


	37. Restless Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter, but it didn't feel right jumping right into planetary defenses. They needed travel time and at least a little bit of breathing room.

**The Thunderclap**

Given how exhausted Havoc squad had been after the assault on Korriban, Fynta had ordered mandatory down time. Everyone except Yuun, who'd requested permission to meditate on the bridge, tucked in for a nap. Even though the Gand would never say such a thing out loud, Jorgan got the impression that even _his_ patience with Vik ran thin from time to time.

Jorgan lounged in the commander's quarters, finally able to relax, while Fynta rummaged noisily through a drawer of medals in search of her hairbrush. She snorted with contempt when one of the pins pricked her finger. The Cathar looked up from an article on the newest sniper rifle modifications to find his wife sucking on the injured digit. "The man's an idiot if he thinks I want more of _these_ to play pincushion with," she grumbled, shoving the ribbons to the side.

Darok had offered Havoc more commendations for their work on the Sith homeworld. While Jorgan wasn't so careless with his, he agreed that it was possible to have too many. Eventually, the prestige became overshadowed by the sheer weight that they added to his dress jacket. Still, the he tried to put a pleasant spin on things, if only to get Fynta to stop making so much noise. "He's proud of Havoc's accomplishments, can't really blame the guy."

Shutting the drawer with an exasperated huff, Fynta faced Jorgan. The Cathar recognized the moment her mind shifted from on duty Republic soldier, to something more . . . carnal. "If I wanted a reward for a job well done," she purred, placing her hands on the bed to either side of Jorgan's bare feet. "I'd speak to someone who could actually give me what I deserve." Her voice dipped low, and Jorgan found himself setting aside the datapad to fold his hands over his stomach.

They'd both gotten comfortable after making the jump to hyperspace; Fynta in regulation military halter bra and tight shorts, while Jorgan remained in his under armor pants, sans shirt. He watched his wife crawl towards him, doing his best to ignore the way her knees straddled his legs. "Oh?" The Cathar managed through a tight throat, quite proud of his ability to sound amused instead of aroused. "And what sort of reward do you deserve?"

Fynta settled into Jorgan's lap, his hands resting on her thighs as hers draped casually over his shoulders. He'd been startled to discover that the contrasting temperature between cold metal, and the warmth of Fynta's flesh kindled his desire. He flexed his fingers, enjoying those differences under his palms. Jorgan had kept this revelation to himself at first, concerned about making his wife uneasy while she came to accept her circumstances. Of course, she'd picked up on it quickly, because he'd never been able to hide anything from the blasted woman. Now, Fynta offered him every chance to explore this new penchant, not to mention, she enjoyed showing off her regained flexibility.

The major leaned forward, pressing Jorgan against the headboard. Fynta's lips brushed his ear, and Jorgan's hands slid up to her hips, eagerly awaiting the invitation to respond. The Cathar sucked in a breath when her tongue flicked at the sensitive tip of his ear, and he let her scent overwhelm him.

"You," Fynta finally whispered.

It was a simple answer, but the way Fynta's voice filled with lust, followed by the gentle tug of her teeth, pulled a feral snarl from the Cathar. Bucking his hips, Jorgan flipped his wife onto her back, not bothering to be gentle with his kisses as he pinned her with his weight. His hands roved over her body, enjoying every part, whereas Fynta's went directly to his waistband, ever impatient.

A chiming noise broke the two Havoc commanders apart, and Jorgan growled in annoyance this time. He looked into Fynta's eyes and saw a mixture of amusement and irritation. This wouldn't be the first time an emergency transmission had interrupted their personal time. When it sounded again, the Cathar pushed off the mattress with a muttered curse. "This is becoming a bad habit."

Fynta chuckled while Jorgan crawled to the foot of the bed to reach across the small expanse. He snatched Fynta's datapad off the desk and flicked the screen on to display a message with an urgent tag. That, along with the fact that they were still in hyperspace, meant Verin was desperate to reach his sister. At a nod from Fynta, Aric opened the missive.

_You're not anywhere near Tython right now, are you, adi'ika?_

A cold wave ran through Jorgan's entire body, and when his eyes found Fynta's, whatever she saw in them had the major on her feet in an instant. He held out the datapad, then stood to collect his gear. It didn't matter that minutes ago they'd been ready to tear one another's clothes off. This was clearly a military matter, to be handled accordingly.

"Fierfek," Fynta hissed. Jorgan noticed that Verin's name had become synonymous with that word lately. She crossed the room and threw open the door to activate the intercom just outside. "Yuun, drop us out of hyperspace, now!"

The deck rocked violently under Jorgan's feet, causing him to grip the desk chair as Fynta stumbled back into their room. No sooner had the door slammed behind her, than her holo lit up. Her eyes grew wide. "Shab, forced override. Get down." Jorgan didn't ask for an explanation, simply dropped to the floor a moment before Theron Shan appeared in miniature.

"There you are," the SIS agent growled. "I've been trying to reach you. We've got a serious problem, Fynta." Jorgan snorted at the informal use of the major's name, then shoved his annoyance down and kept quiet. Fynta had been adamant about not flaunting their relationship in front of Shan, though the man clearly knew something had changed about his former cadet.

"I figured that much out on my own," the major shot back. "Where do you need us?"

Shan shook his head, waving a hand at her. "I'm not even going to ask how," he responded. "Imperial forces just hit Tython. Iso-5 bombings, strike teams in the Jedi Temple . . . they need your support."

"Has Darok issued orders?" Fynta hedged, though Jorgan didn't understand her hesitance. Granted, his mood might not be the best since he was laying on a cold, durasteel floor because Shan had somehow managed to hack Fynta's comm. It was even more annoying that she'd recognized the intrusion so quickly. Just one more reminder of how well the two knew one another.

"He didn't mention you specifically, no," Theron responded. "But, they _need_ Havoc."

A niggling thought crept slowly through Jorgan's mind at the mention of Iso-5. Makeb should be a broken up wasteland now. The Hutts had gotten greedy and drilled too deep in search of the rare Isotope-5 mineral, causing the planet's core to become unstable. Havoc had been responsible for part of the planet's evac shortly after Fynta had been cleared for light duty. Jorgan remembered it well, that had also been their first co-op mission with Jedi. So, where was the Empire getting its supply?

"Fine," Fynta replied after a brief silence. "I'll set course for Tython."

Theron nodded once, his shoulders sagging in relief. "Get down there and save that planet, Fynta."

As soon as the signal cut off, Fynta snatched up the device and hurled it against the wall hard enough to shatter the casing. Jorgan pushed himself off the floor, then padded over to examine the mess. The holo wouldn't be functional again any time soon, and he offered his wife a curious brow raise. The major didn't usually resort to destroying her own equipment when she was annoyed, claiming it was too much trouble to replace.

"I need a new comm," Fynta complained. "That one was compromised." When Jorgan straightened and crossed his arms, she waved him off. "I'll explain later. Right now, I need to contact Verin. Then, we've got to bail out the Jetiise."

**Imperial Dreadnaught**

The alarms blared, startling Zolah from sleep. It took a few moments to realize that they were a call to arms. The Chiss stumbled out of bed and grabbed her armored jacket, pulling on her boots as she keyed open the door. She'd slept in her clothes for years in preparation for just such an eventuality. The habit has saved her life more than once, and it was something she tried to encourage in her crew. The idea had been met with varying degrees of acceptance.

Vector appeared at Zolah's side as she rounded the corner into the chaos of the hallway. Together, they traversed the crowded walkways while still righting sleep rumpled clothing. Zolah had just entered the bridge, fastening the last button of her vest, when Lana nodded towards the holotable. "It's Korriban."

"So soon?" The Chiss asked, leaning over the table to study the image of the Sith training grounds. Sure enough, Republic forces had laid waste to the Sith academy. Vector sucked in a breath, black eyes narrowing at the scene before them.

A counterstrike was to be expected, there were even systems in place to protect against such a move. After all, they'd raided Tython, rather easier than Zolah had expected. "This feels wrong," Solish said from across the table. Zolah's implants hadn't registered the Cathar's presence, which troubled her. The Sith leaned forward, pushing her face through the holo to cut her eyes towards Arkous. "How were they able to penetrate the planet's defenses?"

Lana remained silent on the manner while Zolah attempted to pull up the defense protocols. ACCESS DENIED. The Chiss raised an eyebrow, then tried again. After another failed attempt, she leaned back to look at the two Sith. "My security clearance has been revoked." She spoke softly, gambling that neither of the women in her immediate vicinity had anything to do with it.

"Let me see." Lana shouldered up behind the agent, brows pulled together as Zolah demonstrated again. If she tried one more time, she could lock down the entire system. "Mister Hyllus, if you please." Vector approached the terminal, entering in his passcode with the same result. He'd been given emergency access in case Zolah became incapacitated. Since the two worked almost exclusively together, the joiner would be the Empire's next best hope. He knew Zolah's mind better than anyone else.

Lana's lips pressed into a thin line. "This is troubling."

Solish circled around the table, joining the small huddle, but not deeming it necessary to lower her voice. "If anyone knows the inner workings of Sith conspiracies, it's my crew. _Troubling_ , is putting it lightly, Lord Beniko."

Zolah had been privy to her fair share of Imperial conspiracies too, and spared Lana a careful look. Should the Sith decide to report Solish for her thinly veiled accusation, well, the Cathar was half mad as it was, and she had the benefit of _being_ Sith. Zolah chose to remain silent, having neither of those factors working in her favor.

"Alter course!" Arkous commanded, drawing everyone's attention to the navigation platform. "Get us to Korriban at once!" The Pureblood appeared properly annoyed by this attack, but Zolah couldn't deny that Solish's allegation had merit. He constructed the attack on Tython, and only he had access to their Republic source of information.

Lana touched Zolah's arm and nodded towards the hallway. Solish followed without invitation, while Vector remained behind to keep an eye on the now frantic Darth Arkous. Zolah wondered if she should summon forth the others from her ship, then discarded the idea.

Once away from the pandemonium of the bridge, Lana pitched her voice low. "I want you two working together on this one. I'll ensure your absence goes without notice, but we must understand what is happening down there." The woman squared her shoulders, expression dogged. "We _must not_ let the Republic destroy our heritage."

**Republic Space Station**

Theron paced in front of the holotable, staring at the image of Tython. The planet was surrounded by dreadnaughts, and the grounds overrun by Imperial soldiers. _How did this happen?_ He asked himself again. The agent glanced at Colonel Darok, who'd spent the entire time on his comm to someone he claimed was high enough up the food chain to make a difference.

Theron had a niggling thought at the back of his mind, screaming that this whole situation didn't add up. These attacks were perfectly timed, but when he'd mentioned the possibility of a leak within the department, Darok grew angry. Theron stopped short of accusing the man of being involved, mentally or verbally, but still. . . .

"Come on, Fynta. Hurry up," the agent grumbled. He placed his hands on the table and let all the air out of his lungs in a long breath.

Judging by the major's wardrobe, she had been asleep, or maybe fresh out of the shower. Had he not been so hell bent on getting the woman to agree to Havoc's intervention, Theron might have commented on how good she looked. They hadn't spent long enough on the holo for him to do a thorough scan, but it had given him a view of her new leg, and the expensive tech it was made from. Theron smiled. He'd have to mention something about her being wired up just like him the next time they spoke in private, just to piss her off. Granted, that would have to be _after_ she pulled off the impossible rescue of the Jedi planet.

"Shan," Darok called, pulling the agent out of his thoughts. It was probably for the best. The mountain of man stomped over, slamming a meaty fist into the table. "No good, I'm going to have to coordinate from orbit."

"Great, I'll come with." Theron snatched up his meager belongings and gave the colonel a pointed look.

The man appeared on the verge of protesting, then sighed in defeat. "Fine, but stay out of the way."

Theron grinned, bringing up the program that would inform him the moment Fynta dropped out of hyperspace again. She'd no doubt destroyed her holo, but Theron only needed an alert this time. He wouldn't have to slice into anyone's personal device, because Fynta knew to expect his call now. As they walked, Theron reviewed Havoc's file again. He'd met the XO and Lieutenant Yuun; hopefully Fynta would let Theron borrow the Gand again, because he worked miracles with tech. However, the others were still unknowns. Sergeant Vik had been blacklisted years ago, so it didn't surprise Theron that he'd ended up on Fynta's squad, but Sergeant Cormac was more of a mystery. Not to mention Lieutenant Dorne, Imperial defector. In his experience, those tended to be spies too.

"I'm serious, Shan," Darok repeated over his shoulder as the two men approached his battlecruiser. Theron shook the conspiratorial thoughts away for now. "I don't want you interrogating my men while I'm trying to run an op. We'll worry about a possible leak later."

_No problem, I've got my own players on the board now_ , the agent thought. Outwardly, Theron offered a reassuring smile. "You won't even know I'm there."

**The Red Blade**

Zolah smiled when she gave the Cathar Sith the name of the prototype operations craft. According to the agent, it had been Kaliyo's idea to dub the ship after their first conquest together. An interesting tale forged of piracy in the swamps of Hutta. No matter how many times Zolah claimed to be only humoring her Rattataki anarchist, Vector had noted a smirk whenever she used the nickname.

"This ship is top of the line, my lord," Zolah continued, offering enough humility to keep from being electrocuted by the temperamental Sith. Vector bypassed the two women to enter the coordinates for Korriban. As the small group remained near the entrance to the bridge, he had no trouble overhearing their conversation. "Only a few were made, and she offers everything from a radar resistant hull, to advanced weaponry. I assure you, the _Blade_ will slip through the Republic blockade with ease."

"Very well," the Sith answered. "I trust that you would not have caught the attention of Darth Arkous were you not proficient at your job." Vector wondered if the use of such a word to describe Zolah's performance was intentional baiting, or if it was simply the way the Sith perceived non Force users.

The naviscreen blinked green, acknowledging the coordinates, and Vector rejoined the group. "Sirs." He offered a polite bow before carrying on. "We have input the coordinates, and should arrive within a six hour time frame."

Zolah had decided to send everyone away before allowing Solish onto her ship. Kaliyo's tendency towards blatant disrespect, Raina's mild, slightly illegal Force sensitivity, and Dr. Lokin's sketchy experiments were certainly not the image that the Chiss agent wished to project. Not to mention, SCORPIO. The mere thought of allowing the vindictive AI anywhere near someone of Solish's power had conjured a feeling of dread. In the end, Vector had been all that remained. The joiner took pride in the trust Zolah showed by allowing him to remain.

Likewise, Solish had brought someone of her own. A Kaleesh Sith apprentice, one Xivhkalrainik. Zolah had asked Vector to repeat the name multiple times for her own amusement. The joiner finally had to point out that his position, not only as a diplomat, but as Dawn Herald, made him well versed in difficult to pronounce names. Xalek, as Darth Solish had graciously introduced him, remained silent during the tour of the ship. Both Force users appeared unimpressed by the Intelligence agent's vessel, so, Zolah wrapped up the conversation.

"Vector will show you to the room we've put together." The Siths' presence clearly agitated Zolah. She regarded them with a wary respect, but had confided in Vector that she felt the Dark Council could do with a few less occupants. Nevertheless, the Chiss agent played the part of submissive, then went about her business unhindered.

"Of course," Vector responded on cue, waving his hand before him. "If you would follow us." Raina had been kind enough to convert the conference room into a spare bedroom for Darth Solish, and Xalek could bunk in the barracks.

When Vector returned after seeing to their _guests_ , he found Zolah sitting at her desk with a datapad in hand. Technically, he spent most nights in her bed, yet the joiner refused to claim ownership of the space itself. He was content to be near her, yet felt no desire to demand that her things become his. Grabbing his datapad off the bedside table, Vector sank into one of the chairs, crossing his ankle over the opposite knee.

The joiner had felt uneasy since the news of the attack on Korriban reached them. He agreed that things couldn't be as simple as Republic revenge, though he hadn't formulated a hypothesis as to why yet. Apart from the timing and the failed planetary defense system, they must also account for the sudden loss of security access. While Vector did not regard himself as a paranoid man, he would be remiss not to consider the possibility of a trap.

"Is something troubling you?" Vector glanced up from his datapad, having yet to turn the device on, to find Zolah gazing at him with brilliant, red eyes. The absence of pupils had been oddly reassuring after leaving the Oroboro Nest, feeling more comfortable in the agent's presence than the other members of their team. Her lack of—humanity, had made his integration into the crew smoother because she never required him to act fully human. He'd made the attempt for his own benefit, then gave up when Zolah proclaimed that she had no interest in who he _used_ to be. Their relationship had progressed quickly after that.

"We were considering tactics for when we reach Korriban," Vector admitted.

Zolah leaned forward, propping dainty elbows on her knees. The Chiss agent could be described as willowy by those who hadn't see her fight. She stood just a few centimeters shorter than Vector and sported a thin frame. Of course, he knew her musculature better than most, but hunched forward in that jacket, the joiner agreed that she looked too fragile for what lie ahead.

One black brow arched in his direction. "And have you come up with another master strategy?" Her lips twitched into a playful smile as she tipped her head, short, ebony hair brushing the top of her shoulder.

Vector sighed, setting aside the device before interlacing his fingers in his lap. "As much as it troubles us to say this. We believe it would be wise to stay aboard the ship." Zolah sat straight, her calculations as to why he would choose to stay behind evident on her face. "If you wish us at your side, we will, of course, acquiesce. But, would it not be pertinent to have an escape route available, should the worst come to pass?" The idea of leaving the ship unguarded on a war ravaged Sith planet held little appeal, and Solish would no doubt wish to take her apprentice with her. Meaning there would be no one left to pilot if an evacuation were required.

Vector warred with himself for two hours over which would benefit Zolah more; a quick exit, or an ally on the planet. In the end, the joiner decided that, as an agent, she was more than capable of defending herself. Thanks to her training, and being resistant to mind manipulation, Vector would prove more useful aboard the ship.

They sat in silence while Zolah considered his suggestion. "I agree," she stated at length. "That is a pragmatic outlook. Should we be overwhelmed, I'll trust you to arrive promptly."

Having Zolah's approval gave Vector no satisfaction, if only for the fact that he preferred not to leave her alone with two Sith as her only backup. However, their options were few. Offering a curt nod, Vector retrieved the datapad again. "Let us hope things do not come to that," he remarked, finally turning on the device in his hands.

Zolah sighed, spinning her chair away from Vector to resume planning. "Yes, let's."


	38. Rising Suspsicion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Mando'a translations at the bottom.

**Orbit around Tython  
** **The Thunderclap**

" _Theron to strike team. You're almost to the temple, be aware that heavy artillery is blocking your way."_

"Copy that," Fynta responded. "We've got a plan."

Cormac sat with his leg propped up at the central terminal on the Thunderclap. That blasted Sith had hit him with his own round, and the armor piercing, plasteel slug had done a number on the soft tissue in his leg. His toes still throbbed in time with his pulse, and the whole thing looked bloody awful. He should feel lucky after what had happened to Fynta, though. His leg would heal over time.

Cormac sighed. Since he was busted up, Balic had been left behind to guard the ship in orbit around Tython's moon. Elara had shown him how to bring up everyone's POV on the terminal and switch the comlink channels. The man had never needed to know those things before, and he wasn't sure his life was better for knowing them now.

So, the sergeant sat on his ass, watching his squad traverse the torn up landscape that used to be beautiful Tython. The Empire hadn't been any gentler with the locals than the Republic had been on Korriban. Bodies littered the ground, and Cormac noted a surprising number of Twi'leks.

"Cormac, I'm patching Verin through to the ship, so don't freak out," Fynta said over the comms.

"Why would I freak out?" Alarms blared, almost making Cormac dive for cover before he realized that it was just the ship's security program. Someone was trying to slice into system. "Ah, that's why."

"Type in override code 76-34-," Elara relayed calmly, but Cormac could barely hear over of the sirens.

The man leaned closer to the comm. "Repeat those numbers again, Lieutenant."

" _765343."_

The screaming finally stopped, and Cormac shook his head. He could still hear the damn things wailing in his ears. "How did you know about the code?" Fynta asked, keeping comms open until otherwise required. " _I_ didn't even know about it."

"Yuun and I wrote it," Elara answered simply. "I thought we might need to bypass standard Republic security one day." She paused, then asked the question that had been on the tip of Cormac's tongue. "How did you plan on solving the alarm problem?"

Fynta chuckled, a nervous sound. "I was going to suggest that he shoot the console and ask Yuun nicely to fix it later."

Balic barked out a laugh as Elara huffed in annoyance. "Of course you were."

"Clever," Agent Shan chimed in, and Cormac winced, all merriment forgotten in the presence of the Republic spy. "Who's Verin?"

Before Fynta could answer, the line clicked, signaling that someone had patched in. "Don't mind us. We're just dodging blaster fire in an effort to get your troops out alive. By all means, take your time and have a chat," Verin growled.

Cormac had never met the man, but from everything Fynta had said, he sounded like a solid big brother. Cormac figured he probably had a few things in common with the bounty hunter, should they ever get the chance to meet in person. Both had raised their siblings, then packed them off to the military for a better life. Balic sighed and pushed that thought aside. Fynta's future had turned out a mite better than Cormac's little brother's.

"Ne'johaa everyone. I'm trying to fly." Cinlat ordered from the background. "ETA five minutes, Fynta." Cinlat remained calm even while complaining about the distractions. Cormac didn't have eyes on the sky, but if it was anything like what Havoc had encountered on the ground, she needed to concentrate. According to Fynta, the woman was damn near unruffleable, but that Verin gave it a good go.

A heavy sigh issued over the comms, and Cormac pictured Agent Shan rubbing his temples when he spoke again. "Major, is this one of those times where I should look the other way?"

"The direction you look is irrelevant. It is what you choose to do with what you see that affects the lives of those around you," Yuun added helpfully. Cormac slapped a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing too loud.

"Okay, seriously, can I keep him?" Shan asked again. "Hello?"

Fynta's voice came over the comms in a whisper, and the background noise had died down considerably. "Entering the Temple, signal might get a little patchy," she reported. "Meet us inside, ori'vod." As if on cue, the feeds began to sputter. The screens blinked out, leaving Cormac with only life signs to monitor their progress.

"So, Sergeant," Theron began conversationally. "How's the leg?"

Cormac looked at his swollen thigh and grimaced. "It'll heal."

"Good to hear. Since we've got some time before they come back online, anything you can tell me about the major's contacts?" Agent Shan fished for answers with all the subtlety of a rancor in an antiques shop. How did this guy survive as a spy?

"Afraid not, sir," Cormac answered. Fynta had warned him that Theron might try to wheedle information from him, and told him to stick to simple yes or no answers. Leaning heavily towards the _no_ part of that combination.

"You know that I can make your life difficult, right, Cormac?" Theron replied. Balic smiled at the idea of being blackmailed by the spook ex-boyfriend. Fynta had also assured him that she'd handle it if Theron tried something like that too.

"No offense, sir. But, Fynta's scarier."

Theron sighed. "Yeah, I get that. Oh, the feed's back." Sure enough, the images all snapped on at once to show Havoc locked in a fierce battle with a Chagrian male. "That's Lord Goh. Our records say he's dead." He certainly didn't _look_ dead.

A boloball sized chunk of permacrete slammed into Jorgan's back, causing him to stumble forward. In the same moment, Fynta tackled Vik to keep him from being flattened. Cormac leaned forward and pressed the comm button. "Uh, is he throwing parts of the ceiling at you?" Impressively, the Sith managed to shield himself _and_ hurl debris at them.

The images sputtered again as what looked like an RPG exploded against the Sith's invisible shield. That's when Cormac noticed the Jedi. Master Kaeto Vaa, the Togruta Havoc had worked with to clear Makeb, launched into view as soon as Goh's defenses dropped. Their lightsabers hissed, sending a shower of sparks as they clashed. Kaeto had run most of her missions solo or with her Padawan, so Cormac had never seen her fight. Watching her through Jorgan's POV, however, made Cormac second guess the whole _Jedi remain serene_ idea after she placed a well-aimed kick to the Sith's groin, then her knee connected with Goh's face.

Kaeto raised one of her sabers to finish him off, but the Sith threw his hand out, sending her flying into Jorgan. The impact took them both off their feet, and the Cathar landed with another grunt. Cormac winced in sympathy; Kaeto Vaa wasn't a small female. She stood as tall as Jorgan and showed off some impressive musculature in that black leather halter that she wore. Balic bet that even without extra abilities, the Togruta woman would be a force to be reckoned with.

As soon as the Jedi untangled herself from Jorgan, she fell on Lord Goh as Fynta lunged for him. Jorgan had just gotten up to one knee when Cinlat joined the fray. The three women attacked as if they'd rehearsed the fight their entire lives. Kaeto's duel lightsabers grazed as close to Cinlat's helmet as the huntress's vibroblade came to nicking Fynta's pauldron. Somehow, they never clashed.

Goh's lightsaber slid off the humans' armor, and he never came close to touching the Jedi. From what Cormac could see from the varying perspectives, it looked like both sets of beskar'gam were smoking. No one could get in a shot with the women so tightly packed around the Sith, so they waited and watched. Likely as transfixed as Cormac by the spectacle.

Cinlat finally landed a lucky blow to Goh's chin, staggering the Sith. Fynta sank her vibroblade under his sternum, and Kaeto finished him off with a quick sweep of her deep purple blade. The Chagrian's head toppled from his shoulders, leaving the horned tails to fall away separately. Cinlat declared victory by kicking the body away from them.

The three women stood over their enemy, panting, until Jorgan edged closer as if approaching a wild animal. He put a hand on Fynta's shoulder, and the major reacted, spinning towards the touch. Her fist connected with Jorgan's waiting palm, the impact echoing throughout the now silent room.

"Easy," Jorgan murmured, curling his fingers over the major's hand. "It's over."

It felt like an eternity before Fynta dropped her arm. Then, she looked over her shoulder at the Sith, voice monotone and exhausted when she spoke. "Mission accomplished, Havoc. Let's go home."

**Korriban**

The Jedi put a hand to his gut, dropping to his knees. Jensyn had been a large man, one of the biggest Zolah had ever seen. He still clutched his white lightsaber while the three Sith circled around. Darth Kozen, an equally large Sith Pureblood, and the Emperor's Wrath at that, had joined their campaign to retake the academy from the Republic. Between Xalek and Kozen's brutal onslaught, and the constant threat of electrocution, Zolah had kept at a distance for the duration of the battle.

The Chiss had found a perch on one of the broken balconies after the fighting spilled into the main foyer. Vector remained on the comm, watching the area immediately around Zolah, while she stared down her scope. He warned her which direction to dodge, and when to seek a better vantage so that she could focus on getting through the Jedi's defenses.

In the end, it had been the Cathar's lightning that had finally brought the Jedi to his knees. Kozen and Xalek had impaled Jensyn from opposite directions, and Zolah put a slug in his head, effectively neutralizing the last Jedi threat.

Solish had expended a large amount of energy in the fight as well, and bent double to catch her breath. Her display of power had been more impressive than anything she'd demonstrated on Tython. Xalek's chest heaved, though he showed no other signs of fatigue, and Kozen's eyes shown bright with the rush of another kill.

The Chiss activated her comm implant to hail the ship, "The Academy is secure."

"Understood. Might we suggest you return now?" Vector responded on her private line. "Lord Beniko is most insistent that you meet with her. Alone." He let his tone dip on the final word, indicating his unease with their situation.

"Please inform her that I will arrive presently." Zolah ended the call, then turned towards the gathered Sith. "My Lord Wrath, your assistance in this matter has been unrivaled."

The man dipped his head, gold encircled bone spurs and facial tentacles gleaming in the light of his red blade. The Emperor's Wrath resumed his calm demeanor, reminding Zolah of Darth Marr in the way he carried himself. Silent rage rolled off of the Sith, waiting to erupt, yet he spoke with an eloquence that belied the violence within. "Korriban is ours once more. You've done well, Cipher. May we meet again." With a nod towards Solish and Xalek, Darth Kozen excused himself to continue whatever duties awaited a man of his stature.

Once aboard the Red Blade, Zolah took her turn in the refresher, then retreated to her room before either of their passengers could seek her out. She had no idea what Sith did after a battle, but a massage and rest generally came next in Zolah's routine. She shut the door, then leaned back against it, drinking in the quiet serenity of her personal space. The Chiss had just closed her eyes when someone rapped lightly on the door. She could tell by the delicate knock who it was, and cracked the door just enough for Vector to slip in.

"Are you well, love?" Dark eyebrows drew together as he took in her bedraggled state. She'd dressed in simple shorts and a shirt, leaving her normally tidy hair a towel scrubbed mess.

Zolah straightened her spine instinctively, refusing to show any form of weakness, before remembering who stood before her. She slouched against the door again, knowing that Vector would keep her secret; that she was only mortal. "I feel drained."

Taking Zolah's hand gently, the joiner led her to the bed, encouraging her to sit. "That is to be expected after visiting a world such as Korriban." He knelt and ran his hands down her exposed calf, gripping her foot firmly to press his thumbs against the sole. "It is over now, you should try to rest.

Zolah leaned back on her hands, closing her eyes in an attempt to follow Vector's suggestion. She could tell by the tightness in the joiner's voice that he didn't believe his own words. Korriban might be under Imperial control once more, but this was far from over.

**D-5 Mantis**

Verin studied the four commandos as they all huddled by the airlock. Fynta had given them permission to remove their helmets, stating that most of their secrets were out in the open anyway. He and Cinlat had done the same out of respect. Fynta had a good group so far as Verin could tell. They were allies, and deserved the privilege of seeing one another's face.

Verin already knew Tanno Vik from their collar on Balmorra. The Weequay had obeyed Fynta's orders without question, only mouthing off once or twice. Elara Dorne sat on the floor messing with the inner working of her helmet, completely oblivious to the silent argument happening right next to her.

Fynta and Jorgan had their heads close together, both making jerky movements with their hands as they spoke. Fynta shook her head vehemently, and Jorgan put his hands on his hips, chest expanding in annoyance. Finally, she threw her hands up and stepped aside, waving at the stairwell. The Cathar put a hand on her shoulder, then headed for the stairs.

Verin watched the display, not all that thrilled that Jorgan appeared to be heading in his direction. Cathar and Mandalorians didn't belong together, the thought alone went against nature itself. However, Verin could find no other reason to object to his sister's choice of mate aside from the man's species, and it made him feel shallow. The hunter's gut twisted at the knowledge that such speciesism lingered inside him. Verin could have sworn he was better than that.

Unsettlingly blue eyes landed on Verin as Jorgan took the last step. The Cathar leaned against the banister next to him, turning his gaze towards his squad. "We appreciate your aid," Jorgan commented. He had a deep, growly voice that reverberated in the space around him.

Verin nodded. "It was the least we could do. I appreciate you contacting us when Fynta got hurt. Doubt I'd have known otherwise." He snorted a humorless laugh. "Cin and I keep watch on the obituaries, ret'lini. We figure a war hero like Fynta would at least make the paper."

The surgeon Cormac had contacted Verin about had done an impeccable job building Fynta's leg. He watched his sister pace without the slightest sign of an uneven gait. Then, she squatted next to Dorne with an unrivaled smoothness. Cormac had somehow found a way to contact him and Cinlat while Fynta was still unconscious, and they'd hatched a plan to find the right scientists. The soldier had Republic resources, while the bounty hunters had Imperial ties. Verin wondered if Fynta knew the people who had operated on her had been a former Imperial Intelligence agent, and a washed up resistance doctor looking for a good story to tell.

Verin had been sorely disappointed to learn that Cormac hadn't accompanied the squad this time. The man clearly cared about his sister, and had he not already been married to the charming medic, the hunter would have pushed Fynta to pursue that one.

Jorgan nodded, oblivious to Verin's inner grumbling. "I'll keep you apprised of anything that happens in the future. You have my word." It was confirmation of what Verin already knew. He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back, and counted to twenty.

Calming ritual complete, Verin turned back to the Cathar. Jorgan stood a few inches taller, built like a predator, as per his species. The patterns on his face did nothing to detract from that impression either. Captain Aric Jorgan carried himself in a deadly, serious manner, completely at odds with Verin's kid sister. Part of him wondered if Fynta had seen the Cathar as a challenge; something new and exciting that she'd never experienced before.

Verin glanced over his shoulder to where Cinlat sat in the pilot's seat, then sighed. He knew it was more than that. He'd had his suspicions that they were sleeping together, but after watching them on Tython, the hunter had developed a new theory. The two damn well knew what the other was thinking as they fought, which went deeper than simple comrades. That, coupled with the fact that Fynta had given Jorgan access to their emergency line, revealed enough for him and Cinlat to put the pieces together. Jorgan's promise that he'd be around long enough to become Fynta's emergency contact sealed the deal. _Fierfek, he had to be a Cathar, Fynta?_

"When did you marry my sister?" Verin asked, his tone more curt than he intended.

Jorgan's jaw worked as he mulled over his answer. Eventually, the Cathar sighed. "Just before the mission on Corellia. We were on leave in Coruscant. I'd only intended to propose, but getting shot at puts things in perspective," Jorgan continued, his eyes settling on the woman in question. They warmed visibly, causing Verin to wonder what a Cathar could possibly see in his punk little sister. "When she mentioned the vows. . . ." Jorgan trailed off. "It was better to leave things unofficial in the eyes of the Republic."

Verin straightened in surprise. "Wait. You said _Mandalorian_ vows?" If Jorgan was willing to step into Fynta's tradition, then the hunter had seriously misjudged the man. He wondered what else the Cathar had given up, but stopped short of asking. The long separations brought on by the Mandalorian culture's lifestyle sometimes led to half brothers and sisters. As long as the children were raised properly, they were accepted usually adopted into the family.

"We discussed the implications for both of us," Jorgan explained quickly. Verin nodded, changing focus to his sister with a smirk. Cathar followed a vastly different code, remaining faithful even after death. Verin's father respected that about the species, even if he hadn't been able to follow their example all the time. Cathar had the fortitude and discipline to put aside their desires.

Verin chuckled, warming to the man beside him a little more. "You and Fyn'ika are really late starters. Think you'll adopt some kids?"

Jorgan's lips pressed together, brows furrowed, and Verin wondered if he'd tread on a sore topic. "We've discussed it in passing," the Cathar sighed.

"I'm impressed that you got that much out of Fynta. She swore off children when she was fourteen." Verin watched Jorgan out of the corner of his eye, catching the grimace that proved the Cathar knew exactly what he was talking about.

Changing the subject to one less fickle, Verin leaned against the wall that connected to the small galley. "Why her? She's supposed to be your enemy." Verin asked the question with a tone of curiosity, but Jorgan tensed all the same. The guy really needed to lighten up. "Did you know?"

"She told me right after I joined the squad. Said honesty was important." Jorgan laughed, more of a huff than a proper laugh really. "The blasted woman infuriates me sometimes, but she'll do whatever is necessary to protect those around her. She's got a good heart." Jorgan pulled his attention back to Verin. "Even if I don't always agree with her methods."

Verin chuckled. "Yeah, she's one of a kind, and a right pain in the shebs."

Jorgan smiled this time, his lips pressed together to hide his teeth, but his resolve remained unshaken. While the idea of inviting a Cathar into the family still felt odd, especially given Cinlat's history with the species, Verin saw no reason to hate Captain Jorgan. If he wanted to take on the burden of trying to keep Fynta from doing something stupid, then he was welcome to it. Not that it would help, but he'd try. His sister obviously trusted the man if she'd shared so much, and the woman might just have it in her to live up to Jorgan's expectations. She'd always been more loyal than smart.

"Take care of her, vod'ika," Verin sighed with a slap on the Cathar's shoulder. The man was going to be in Fynta's life for a long time, he might as well accept it. "She'll push you to your brink. But she's worth it."

Jorgan chuckled, and Verin thought of some advice that his father had once given him. "We've got a saying amongst our people that I think will aid you in the coming years," Verin offered, waiting until he had the other man's full attention. "The only thing a Mandalorian man fears, is a Mandalorian woman."

"If they are all like Fynta and Cinlat, I don't doubt it," Jorgan replied with another tight smile towards Fynta.

Verin did the same, his grin growing when Fynta looked up at them, eyes narrowed with suspicion. His little sister had found herself a man who was willing to commit his life to her, despite her more annoying tendencies. So, Verin would make a conscious effort to accept Aric Jorgan as his new brother. Cathar or not.

**The Andromeda  
** **Republic Officer's Club**

A battleship as large as the Andromeda was a community in itself, a small city floating through space. Even boasting its own cantina. It almost didn't matter who they were meeting, because it meant Jorgan got to wander through the belly of the beast. Fynta humored him, purposefully getting lost twice to give him a better tour.

"I got a call from Supreme Commander Malcolm," Fynta stated as they walked down the hall that led past engineering. "Something weird is going down on Oricon that he wants us to check out. So, looks like no more down time."

"Oricon?" Jorgan tore his eyes away from the numerous ship schematics on display with some effort. "That's close to Imperial territory."

The two commanders continued in silence while Jorgan considered what the Republic could possibly want on the derelict Sith world. "So," Fynta queried with a poor attempt at tactfulness. "How did it go with Verin? He didn't shoot you, so it couldn't have been that bad."

Jorgan smirked, impressed that his wife had managed to hold off on questioning him as long as she had. Lowering his voice to avoid being overheard, the Cathar decided to end her suffering "As it happens, he welcomed me to the family, after asking the standard big brother questions of course."

Jorgan rubbed his chin. Truthfully, he'd gotten the impression that Verin wasn't pleased with their union. Since Mandalorian wedding vows were a personal matter, he'd kept his opinion to himself. Jorgan hoped that rift could be crossed one day, but knew that in the end, Verin's approval had no bearing on his marriage with Fynta. He kept these thoughts to himself, deciding to wait and see how things went the next time they met one another. "The man didn't even threaten to kill me if I hurt you."

Fynta chuckled, elbowing Jorgan playfully. "That's because he knew he wouldn't have to."

"Good point, guess I'll have to behave." Music reached Jorgan's ears, signaling that they'd found the cantina.

Fynta stopped outside and leaned closer. "Not too much, I hope." The heat in her voice reminded Jorgan that they hadn't had a chance to continue their conversation from earlier. Before Shan had interrupted. Something the Cathar planned to remedy once they got back to the Thunderclap. To avoid drawing unwanted attention, Jorgan replied with a flash of teeth, pulling a wicked grin from his wife.

When the two commandos entered the pub, Theron sat in the back facing the door, bent close to a small holoprojection of a woman Jorgan thought he recognized. A clip of the news behind the bar distracted him, however. A serious looking human woman read from a datapad while red letters in all caps scanned across the bottom of the screen announcing that she had an urgent report. "Continuing our coverage of the most recent breakout of the rakghoul plague, I'm joined now by Addalar Hyland, founder of the philanthropic organization THORN. . . ." The rest faded out of earshot as they passed.

Jorgan frowned at the screen. A rakghoul outbreak. That sounded disturbingly familiar, and he made a mental note to check into it when they reached the ship. A small part of him wondered if he'd made a grave mistake by letting Fynta destroy Dorant's serum supply on Taris. They should have turned it over to Research Division. Maybe the Republic could have found a cure by now.

Theron deactivated the holo when he spotted the soldiers, and all thoughts of Rakghouls were pushed to the back of Jorgan's mind. "That was Grand Master Satele, wasn't it?" Fynta asked as she took the seat that the SIS agent gestured to.

"Currently acting as emissary to the Drayvos League. Nowhere near Tython." He sighed, "We aren't exactly close; the Jedi don't much care for family dynamics." Jorgan openly balked as the information sank in. Grand Master Satele _Shan_. The Cathar gave Theron a harder look, he'd never seen the current leader of the Jedi order up close, so couldn't tell if they shared any similar features. Jorgan planned to ask Fynta more about this revelation later, but the uncomfortable look the agent gave Jorgan was confirmation enough. Those were some damn big boots to fill.

Clearing his throat, Theron leaned back and threw his arm over Fynta's chair. Jorgan swallowed his possessive growl while the agent plowed ahead. "You've made good use of your promotion I see. Havoc life suites you, _Major_." Fynta nodded, eyes narrowed as if preparing for an attack. "That tech they wired into you looked pretty impressive over holo, I wouldn't mind doing a more thorough inspection of it."

Jorgan opened his mouth to tell Shan to show some respect, but Fynta cut him off, looking more amused than annoyed. "That'll stay my little secret this time, Shan," she laughed. "Enough small talk, though. You're up to something."

The SIS agent nodded. "I figured you'd want in." Shan looked at Jorgan with the same measuring expression that he'd seen on Fynta's face so many times. The idea that she might have learned that from this man repulsed the Cathar on a primal level.

"First things first." Shan glanced at Fynta, "Full disclosure?" She nodded, and he leaned forward to look Jorgan in the eye. "Alright, you know about me, and you know about Fynta. I'm curious, how does a Cathar feel about working under a Mandalorian?"

Jorgan tried not to overthink the word choice. "Major Wolfe is as fine a commander as I've ever seen. Cathar was destroyed before either of us were born. No reason I should hold her responsible." He'd rehearsed that line time and time again in his head, knowing that eventually, someone would ask about their peculiar relationship.

Theron snorted, leaning back to cross his arms. "You know your commander and I have history, back to her days with Epoch." It wasn't a question, Shan was fishing for a reaction. Jorgan squeezed his fists in his lap, focusing on keeping his face impassive instead of laying the guy out.

"She told me," Jorgan answered, barely able to keep the growl from his voice. Fynta watched him warily, her arms and legs crossed to hide her own tension.

Shan's eyebrows rose a little. "Really?" His eyes slid back to Fynta in suspicion. "Wow, I didn't think you'd ever tell anyone about Epoch. I'm assuming the summarized version?" Fynta answered with a grin, and Theron rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you haven't changed much. Okay, back to why we're here." The SIS agent plopped a datapad on the table, displaying an image of the Sith Pureblood from the Jedi temple. After that, the three delved into a lengthy conversation about crossed timetables, missing operational data, and general conspiracy theories.

"The real question is," Shan said, wrapping the conference up. "Are you going to take your shiny medals and go home like Darok hopes, or are you ready to start digging?" Fynta lifted an eyebrow, her expression incredulous. "That's my girl," Theron grinned, and Jorgan wanted to punch him again.

The agent stood and dropped a credit chip on the table for the three untouched drinks. "Almost like old times, huh?" He smiled in a way that made Jorgan's blood boil. The Cathar hated sitting by while another man looked at _his_ wife like that. "Been great chatting with you, we'll have to do it again sometime. I'll be in touch."

Jorgan waited until the man was out of sight before letting out the snarl he'd suppressed for too long. "Fynta, I—" She held a finger to her lips and reached under the table. A few seconds later, she came up with a small listening device.

Fynta smashed it between her fingers. "And he says _I_ haven't changed." Jorgan didn't appreciate the nostalgic smile she wore either. "Just to be on the safe side, let's save this conversation for the ship." Fynta patted his arm apologetically as she pushed away from the table. "I'm proud of you for not killing him, Aric. I have a feeling we'll need Theron down the road."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> Ne'johaa! [Neh-JOH-hah] Shut up!
> 
> ori'vod [OH-ree-VOD] big brother


	39. Full Disclosure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my opinion, not a whole lot happened of importance on Manaan. So, we're just going to skip it and move on. This is more of a transitionary chapter, but it's setting the stage for things to happen, so hopefully it's not too boring. ;)

**The Thunderclap  
** **Four months later**

Jorgan stalked through the Thunderclap in search of the ship's commander. Fynta had always managed to disappear while he filed post mission reports, showing up later with a barely valid excuse. She'd been gone for nearly three hours this time. Aric stopped in the main room, hands on his hips. "Has anyone seen Fynta?"

Cormac and Vik continued arm wrestling at the table, both looking like they might burst something before the other gave in. The two men ignored Jorgan, completely absorbed in their own conquest. It wasn't that big of a ship, she couldn't have stepped out for a stroll. So, where had his wife gone?

"She mentioned something about the engine room," Dorne called from the medbay. Jorgan stuck his head in to see what the medic's latest project was, but decided it was above his level of intelligence when he spotted the holo of the complex molecular compound. He considered asking what Fynta would be doing down there, but refrained. Elara had her _I can't figure this out, and it is annoying me_ face on. Her lips pressed together, and she sported a slightly raised eyebrow. Jorgan chose to find out for himself and leave the woman to her work.

Yuun's clicking tones echoed off the pipes as Jorgan crossed the narrow catwalk that bridged the inner workings of the Thunderclap. It was odd that he could hear the insect like chatter, yet completely understand it at the same time. "…if the conduit is obstructed, the flow of the ship's life will be hindered, causing malfunctions in the core, and a catastrophic end for us all."

"So, you're saying don't touch that again?" Fynta asked.

"Correct," Yuun replied, and Jorgan chuckled.

Fynta had a unique relationship with everyone on the ship, and lately she'd been spending more time with Yuun. A loner by nature, the man openly admitted that he didn't understand the majority of social cues that the rest of the crew, save maybe Dorne, took for granted. After four years of Fynta and Cormac's examples though, the medic had made impressive progress in that area. Yuun, likewise, had begun to take part. After learning not to listen to _any_ of Vik's ideas, of course.

Jorgan finally found Yuun and Fynta, or their legs at least, sticking out from under one of the pipes that led to the hyperdrive reactor. Jorgan squatted to look under it, finding both staring up at the core with pale blue light dancing across their faces. "What are you doing?"

Yuun startled, knocking his head on one of the connections. The Gand hissed something that Jorgan couldn't translate, and Fynta went wide eyed as she burst into laughter. "Congratulations, Jorgan. I think you just made our resident saint swear. How do you pronounce that again, Yuun?"

The Gand inched forward, extracting himself from under the pipes while rubbing his head. "Apologies. The captain startled Yuun. This Gand is not accustomed to being caught unawares."

Fynta rolled out on one of those mechanic boards with the wheels, and Jorgan had just enough time to avoid being painfully incapacitated by her knees. She grinned at the startled Cathar from between his legs, while still speaking to Yuun. "Don't worry, it happens to the best of us."

Jorgan rolled his eyes before offering his wife a hand up, then did the same for Yuun. "So what were you doing?" He repeated.

"The major felt a tremble in the hyperdrive energies, and asked Yuun to help pinpoint the obstruction," The Gand answered, dusting off his pants and blinking at the smudges of grease as if they held the key to some ancient mystery. Who knew, maybe they did for the Findsman.

Jorgan looked at Fynta. "There's a problem with the hyperdrive?"

"Not that we can find," the major answered, though she didn't look convinced. "I guess it's just my imagination. Still, I'd like to set down on the nearest planet and run diagnostics. Where are we?"

Jorgan furrowed his brows at Fynta, unsure how to go about explaining the strange coincidence that brought him into the engine room in search for her. "Manaan," the Cathar stated. "We received an encrypted message from Theron Shan as soon as we dropped out of hyperspace."

"Fierfek." That had become Fynta's go-to curse when her gut said things didn't add up. Jorgan learned long ago not to ignore those. He'd be sure to pack extra ammo this time.

**Manaan**

"So," Zolah began, leaning closer to the security feed. "That's the infamous Havoc Squad."

The Chiss agent had arrived on Manaan alongside Lana Beniko a few days prior to the Republic soldiers. Her job was to gather Intel while the Sith set up a clandestine meeting with the ever desirable SIS agent, Theron Shan. The man was attractive, Zolah would be a fool to deny that, but the wealth of technical knowledge in that debonair mind of his had been the detail that convinced her to tag along.

Neither party had agreed to come alone, but while Lana had brought Zolah and Vector along; Theron felt the need to pack an entire Republic Commando team. Havoc Squad certainly lived up to their name, making quick work of the underwater laboratory where Arkous and Darok were rumored to be holed up. Not to mention, freeing that beastly Wookie. Personally, Zolah would have left the creature and his irksome translator droid to drown in their cell. Republic bleeding hearts had won out, and now Jakarro raged loudly over the comms while Lana attempted to remotely dock an escape pod with a sinking building. Zolah pointedly didn't offer assistance.

"The major handled the revelation of Lana's origins well," Vector commented from where he watched over Zolah's shoulder. "And her exaction of justice on the geneticist Gorima for his crimes was swift."

The Chiss glanced back at her lover, eyebrow arched. "She let the Wookie shoot him."

"Was that not justice?" There were times when Vector's astute adherence to logic plagued Zolah. It rankled even more when he was right. Leaning closer, the Chiss studied the human woman wading through thigh deep water.

"Cipher, come in." Lana's cool voice pulled Zolah from her musing. "They have boarded the pod, I'm en route to meet with Agent Shan. Perhaps it is time to withdraw?"

Zolah activated her comm implant to respond. "You'll be fine, Lord Beniko?" Silence followed, and she imagined the blond Sith pressing her lips together in an attempt not to berate her agent for using the honorific.

"Quite, Agent." The Chiss repressed a smile at the blatant annoyance in the other woman's voice. "I'll be in contact soon."

"We really wish you would not taunt Sith so eagerly," Vector sighed as he hoisted a bag over his shoulder. They'd come prepared to stay a few days, but Havoc Squad had rooted out the traitors in a little under eighteen hours, even if they had escaped.

"Only Lana. She makes it easy," Zolah replied as she switched off her datapad. Vector sighed in response.

The cipher kept an eye on the security feed through her ocular implant. The images superimposed themselves on her left eye much like the HUD in a soldier's helmet. She could watch the major and her second in command meet with Theron and Lana while she and Vector headed for their shuttle to rendezvous with the _Blade_. It looked like a heated debate, but ended with Jakarro escorting Lana to his ship, while Theron Shan hung back to discuss matters with the soldiers. Zolah desperately wanted to hear what the three had to say, but that would require tapping back into the system.

Counting it as an opportunity missed, Zolah stepped aboard the shuttle and disconnected from all incoming signals. Vector took the helm to begin take off procedures, while Zolah readied all of their fake credentials in order to leave as little a trail as possible. In under an hour, the sleek shuttle slipped through the atmosphere and made the jump to hyperspace, no one any the wiser that they had ever been on Manaan.

**The Thunderclap**

_. . . .The Maelstrom Nebula loomed before them. "You must free the Jedi prisoner," Master Oteg pleaded. "He cannot be left to the darkness again."_

_. . . Jorgan stood on a platform, molten slags of droid parts scattered around from their assault. Grand Moff Kilran leered at them through the holo. "Your persistence is most impressive," the man replied with a calm smile, the scars on his face twisting grotesquely. "Most of my foes have the decency to die quickly."_

" _I've been called stubborn, petulant, irresponsible, reckless—" Fynta continued to tick off the list of aggravations she'd caused across the galaxy. "Destroying a fleet is one thing. Killing Havoc Squad is much harder." Mentally, Jorgan shook his head, wishing that, just once, Fynta wouldn't antagonize the enemy. Still, part of him prided himself on the truth of her words. . . ._

_. . . Kilran fell just outside of the Jedi prisoners holding cell. Their target was far younger than Jorgan expected, with swept back brown hair and an average, human face. Somehow, the Cathar expected . . . more. Then, the woman appeared again, shimmering in pale light, and Jorgan kept his distance while the apparition and Jedi conferred. Mission complete. They'd rescued Revan. . . ._

Jorgan sucked in a breath and ran his hands down his face. He sat at his desk, the datapad he'd been working on blinked up at him from the floor. The Cathar scooped it up and switched the device off. For the most part, Jorgan assumed these dreams were his mind replaying the strangeness of the event. Then, on Manaan, Theron Shan had mentioned that this whole ordeal started when Revan reappeared to lead his cult.

Generally speaking, Jorgan didn't believe in higher powers. He had about as much connection to the Force as Havoc's old protocol droid, but sometimes _coincidence_ didn't fit the situation. To make matters worse, it appeared that he and Fynta were directly responsible for releasing this particular menace on the galaxy. It was only right that they should clean it up.

Jorgan glanced at the empty bed. Fynta had been called into a private meeting with Theron Shan. They'd been asleep when the summons came, lighting up the room enough to make them both curse. The temptation to crawl back under those blankets almost overshadowed Jorgan's annoyance at being left behind. Theron had requested that Fynta come alone this time, even suggested that she wear something nice. Aric trusted his wife, but Theron was another story. _Blasted SIS agents_ , the Cathar grumbled.

Jorgan pushed to his feet, stretching his legs in an attempt to stay awake. He'd promised Fynta he'd be waiting for her briefing, so it wouldn't do to be unconscious when she returned to the ship. As he wandered through the Thunderclap, the light spilling out of the kitchen attached to the conference room drew the Cathar's attention. Further inspection revealed Tanno Vik hunched over a bottle of cheap booze. The Weequay glanced up and waved the bottle at Jorgan with a tired grin. "The boss keeping you up again?"

While the rest of Havoc might be immune to Vik's vulgar sense of humor, Jorgan would always bristle at any intrusion into his personal life. He assumed that was why the blasted demolitions expert ragged him more than the others. Vik knew that he got under Jorgan's skin.

The Cathar crossed his arms and nodded at the bottle. "That doesn't look like a regulation canteen."

"What the brass doesn't know. . . ." Vik trailed off with a crooked smirk. Jorgan got the impression that he'd stumbled upon a fairly common ritual for the Weequay, and wondered how long Fynta had known about it. The woman never missed anything that happened aboard her ship. She probably had an agreement with Vik, or simply turned a blind eye.

"You look like shit, Fluffy," Vik continued. "Sit, have a drink."

Jorgan eyed the Weequay, and Vik rolled his eyes. "You're not my type. Besides, if I talk you into drinking, I get to keep my stash. It's a win-win."

Against his better judgement, Jorgan grabbed a clean mug from the cabinet and sat. Vik shoved the alcohol across the table, and Jorgan poured half a glass, not entirely sure he trusted the contents. "Go on, it'll put hair on your chest," the Weequay chuckled.

Jorgan leveled the sergeant with a sardonic glare, then sniffed at the liquid in his cup. The smell burned his nose and made his eyes water, but the Cathar tipped it back anyway. It scorched all the way down, sitting like a durasteel weight in his stomach, leaving his throat raw and chest aching.

Balancing the mug between his fingertips to buy time to recover, Jorgan cleared his throat. Vik's telling chuckle put the Cathar on the defensive. "This stuff is awful, does it even have alcohol in it, or did you siphon it directly from the engine room?"

"Hyperdrive coolant," Vik shot back with a toothy grin, and Jorgan rolled his eyes.

Jorgan had never been particularly adept at casual conversation, especially with someone he despised, but sitting in companionable silence wasn't going to happen. Jorgan needed to fill the space. "Why are you up so late?" The Cathar asked, keeping his eyes on the cup in his hands.

"Look, Cap', I gave you a drink to keep you quiet," Vik drawled. "Not start a chat. You wanna' talk, go find the bug, or the cuddly wrecking ball."

Jorgan's lips pulled back in an involuntary snarl, and Vik chuckled. "I don't see how a stick up his ass managed to snag a woman like the boss. I figured she'd at least have loosened you up a little." Vik pushed away from the table, grabbing the bottle as he went. "You're going to have a stroke one day." The Weequay's steps faded through the conference room, then towards the barracks. Jorgan leaned both elbows on the table, plopping his head in his hands, wondering if he'd ever be able to breathe normally again.

Vik wasn't wrong, though. Fynta _had_ nearly given the Cathar a coronary more than once. The most recent being when she opted for the expedient method of destroying that Selkath cyborg on Manaan. Instead of stopping to formulate a plan, the blasted woman had ruptured a gas pipe, then shot a flare into it. The entire ceiling ignited, spiraling columns of flame throughout the room. It had been effective, yes, but both Cormac and Fynta had steam rolling off of them by the end of the battle. Of course, Jorgan had been forced to watch it all from the ship, his duty as XO forcing him to stay behind, _yet_ _again_.

The Cathar tipped the rest of the drink back and pulled a face at the bitter, homemade taste of whatever this particular poison was. Honestly, he wouldn't put it past the Weequay to have cut it with some sort of hazardous agent, but Cathar physiology meant Jorgan was hard to kill. The potency didn't hit him until he stood up. Aric swayed, secretly impressed that Vik's brew had affected him so quickly. After rinsing his cup, Jorgan decided that he'd cleared his head enough. Forcing a deep breath, the Cathar steadied himself to head back towards his room to wait for Fynta.

Jorgan had started to doze again when the major staggered into the room with a yawn. He watched with concern as his wife put both hands on the desk and heaved a sigh. "Fynta?"

"Theron thinks he has a bead on our next target," she answered. "But, they need to scout ahead to be sure. He said he'll contact us with the rendezvous coordinates when they are ready."

Jorgan remained where he was, waiting for his wife to continue. He knew the woman well enough to see that something weighed on her mind, and that the more he pressed for it, the more she'd shut down. Finally, Fynta slammed the heel of her hand into the desk and began pacing the room. Her face held a hard expression that Jorgan knew meant she was struggling with some emotional turmoil. "Damn him," she muttered.

"I'm all for it, but care to explain why?" Jorgan remarked with an attempt to ease the tense atmosphere.

Fynta pulled a small device from one of the pockets she'd sewn into her bra and dropped it on the bed. "Why can't anything be simple?"

Jorgan took the violent motion of her wave as permission to investigate. It was a listening device, an old one at that, one that wouldn't be as badly affected by jammers because the tech outdated the latest frequencies. The Cathar flipped it on, not sure what to expect.

The recorder picked up mid-conversation, meaning Fynta had listened to it at least once already. _"I never thought I'd see the day when you grew up,"_ Theron laughed on the other end of the device. _"I've got to say, it's an impressive sight. I should have shoved you at Garza sooner."_

There was no mistaking the sound of Fynta slugging the SIS agent. _"Damn it, Theron. I wondered if you were involved somehow. You threw me into the field with no instructions and_ hoped _I'd make something of it. Again."_ Jorgan pressed his lips together, eyes narrowed at the conversation in his hands, and the real sound of betrayal in his wife's voice.

" _No,"_ Shan broke in. _"Garza had suspicions and reached out to the SIS. You're a soldier, Fynta, not an operative. That lifestyle was killing you. I saw a chance to put a highly skilled commando back on the front lines where she belonged, and I took it. Now, look at you. A major in the army of the Galactic Republic."_

Jorgan stopped the recording and glanced at his wife while she stared at the floor with her arms crossed. "Theron fierfeking Shan is the whole reason I ended up on Ord Mantell."

The Cathar set the device aside, motioning for Fynta to join him. She slid onto the bed, though she remained stiff in his arms. Jorgan closed his eyes a sighed, not fully believing what he was about to say. "As much as I hate him, it sounds like he cared for you." The words tasted wrong in Aric's mouth, but he couldn't deny that Shan had done the galaxy a favor.

Fynta relaxed at the confession, leaning against Jorgan more heavily. "He knows it's over now."

This time, Jorgan tensed, wondering if he'd hear his wife putting Theron in his place if he kept listening to the recording. Fynta chuckled and pulled back to look at him. "His deductive process was quite entertaining. He thinks I'm sleeping with Elara."

Jorgan startled, then started laughing. "Better not tell Cormac, or Vik, for that matter. They might get jealous."

"Or ask to join," Fynta snorted, then shoved Jorgan back onto the mattress, pulling the blanket around them. "I'm exhausted, let's sleep while we can."

The Cathar waited until Fynta curled up against his side. When she had fully relaxed, a grin spread across his face, and he couldn't stop himself. "You know, Dorne's quarters are across the hall." The punch she aimed at his ribs hurt, but it was worth it.

**Dromund Kaas  
The Nexus Room**

Vector watched the woman across the table. Zolah wore an elegant black dress made of savva silk. The material slid over her petite curves, and the color contrasted beautifully with her light blue skin. Solid red eyes flicked up to meet Vector's, her lips twitching into a smirk. "You're staring, lover."

"You are breathtaking this evening," the joiner smiled. Zolah's answering grin showed a lot of bright, white teeth.

They were staking out a target of interest to one of the local Moffs, a security guard he believed to be sneaking valuable information to one of his competitors. It was far too simple for a cipher agent, but this man was a friend of Zolah's mentor, General Rakton. Vector understood his new wife's determination to find the war hero's murderer, though he worried that it bordered on obsessive. Tonight, perhaps Zolah could find some small amount of absolution for her cause by taking out a threat to an ally's empire.

"There he is," Zolah whispered as she leaned over her plate, using the silverware to hide her words. Her eyes glanced to the left, and Vector picked up his knife to examine it for stains. In the blade's reflection, the joiner saw a large man with a military haircut, and a woman far too young on his arm.

"Charming," Vector responded, laying the knife down again. "Your plan?"

Zolah straightened in her chair, running her hands down the front of her dress. "Do you think he'd be interested in trading up?"

Vector ran a speculative eye over the cipher agent, then shook his head. "We do believe that you are too classy for his tastes." Her blatant statement didn't concern the joiner. When she'd agreed to become his wife, they'd discussed the lengths that she'd be required to go to for her job. Vector swore to stand by her side and watch her back during whatever came their way. She hadn't promised to be faithful, nor had she required such sentiment from him.

"Damn," Zolah sighed. "I should have worn the green one."

Vector hid his smile by taking a sip of the wine. "Indeed. That would have done the trick." The dress in question was entirely too short for an establishment such as the Nexus Room.

"Let's wait until he finishes his meal, then grab him outside," Zolah suggested, returning her attention to the plate of vegetables in front of her. "Afterward, we'll—"

The comm that Zolah kept on her at all times buzzed, causing the Chiss to start. Her eyes locked on to Vector, suddenly serious. She'd strapped it to her thigh this time, meaning there was no way of reaching it discreetly. Vector nodded towards the ladies room. "Go, we will keep watch on the embezzler." Zolah nodded, then excused herself to answer Kaliyo's priority call.

Vector kept one eye on the target and his date while Zolah saw to personal matters. She had been away from the table no more than five minutes, but the joiner could tell by her expression that something was wrong when she returned. "Kaliyo found the security feed we've been looking for."

Zolah's voice remained steady, but Vector could hear the underlying tension. She wanted to move on the new intel, but her pride required that she finish this favor first. "Let's see if we can move this along."

"As you wish." Vector pushed away from the table and donned his dress jacket. He suppressed the sigh at having another nice dinner derailed. "We will meet you outside."

Zolah smiled sweetly from her chair. "Where would I be without you?"

Vector offered the cipher agent an unconvinced eyebrow raised, took a deep breath, then swiped his plate from the table. "Absolute rubbish," the man bellowed. "I'll have words with the cook about this."

The joiner stomped towards the kitchen, shoving past the wait staff into the back room. Black eyes took in what he had to work with just before one of the chefs grabbed his arm. Vector shrugged him off, noting the way the man stumbled back from his inhuman glare. "Unhand me, do you have any idea who I work for?"

The joiner flailed his arms angrily, hitting a cup of oil that was set aside for the seafood dish. The flammable liquid spilled onto the stove, igniting immediately. Everyone present were suddenly more interested in putting out the fire. No one had time for the unsatisfied customer any longer, and Vector slipped out the emergency exit with the crowd.

By the time the joiner found his wife, she stood over the unconscious security guard, handing credits over to a smiling blond. "For your trouble," Zolah said. The woman thanked her, then practically skipped away with her reward.

Vector stood to the side, waiting quietly for Zolah's attention. When the Chiss turned, she held a dataspike in her hand. "The fool kept the evidence on him at all times, and our friend knew where. We'll hand this over to the Moff, then be on our way."

"And finish dinner," Vector added, angling a smile at his wife. He'd been enjoying the dish that now lay strewn across the restaurant floor.

"Yes, and finish dinner." Zolah took a few steps, then looked back. "Nicely done, by the way."

Hours later, Vector woke to the dim glow of Zolah's datapad. He took a moment to let his eyes rove over the Chiss. Her shoulder length, black hair remained smooth, indicating that she hadn't really been asleep when he drifted off. "You tricked us," he accused lightly, sitting up to join her.

"I didn't want my problem to keep you from sleeping," Zolah answered simply. "I can't believe I didn't see this before, Vector."

Kaliyo had the recording waiting for Zolah as soon as they entered hyperspace. While Vector did not see the appeal in the Rattataki, many men did. Including the technician with access to security recordings on black listed operations. Zolah had wasted no time playing the feed from Corellia, having finally found a means to identify her target.

Vector stared at the screen over his wife's shoulder and sighed. The image stood in crisp clarity, paused just before the moment of General Rakton's death. The man lay on the floor, unarmed and bleeding, while two Republic soldiers loomed over him. Zolah pressed play, watching it again. The one, clearly a woman, fired twice into the general's body, then the other bent to check his vitals. More soldiers joined seconds after, and Rakton's executioner removed her helmet to reveal none other than Havoc Squad commander Fynta Wolfe.

"We were on the same planet," Zolah said quietly. "I could have ended this on Manaan."

Vector continued to watch the scene play out as the Republic soldier lurched forward. Her subordinates were reduced to a flurry of movement as blood began to cover the floor. Finally, the Cathar male scooped the major up and ran off screen. "She was injured," the joiner commented. "Badly, by the looks of it."

"Not badly enough." Zolah slapped her hand on the screen, breathing heavily as she glared at the image between her fingers. "I've got a name," she stated in a deadly calm. "That's all I need."


	40. Plots within Plots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rakata Prime is complicated, even more so with this bunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I'm not a huge fan of this chapter. It's a lot of information to get to the good stuff, and I couldn't wait to be done with it. But, here it is, and hope you enjoy.

**The Red Blade  
** **Wild Space**

Vector followed Zolah from their room. "We feel this is an unwise venture, beloved." Zolah ignored him. This was a conversation they'd had many times, and frankly, she was tired of it. They were never going to reach an accord; surely Vector could see this.

"Shut up!" Kaliyo kicked the airlock door as she stalked past, and Zolah silently thanked the Rattataki for the distraction. The man stashed inside hurled himself against the barrier in a frantic effort to put more walls between himself and the void outside. Kaliyo ignored his pleas and apologies, continuing into the central room where Zolah settled to pore over the latest holos and security feeds.

 _If only he'd attempted bribery_ , Zolah thought with some amusement.

"Thanks for the lift; this guy's been a pain in my ass for months," Kaliyo continued as she leaned against the holotable. The anarchist had begun taking side jobs, claiming that her favorite agent was dangerously close to being considered _boring_. Kaliyo looked over Zolah's shoulder, then slapped her on the back. "Anyone ever tell you that you obsess?"

The Chiss had monitored any information that felt too spectacular to be true: a sudden rebellion, a high value prisoner escaping, and large explosions, searching across the galaxy for her target. There had been some unrest on Ilum, but that had turned out to be the work of a Jedi, not Havoc Squad. Still, Zolah had Lana Beniko.

Despite the jab, Zolah's lips quirked into a half smile. "Not to my face."

Kaliyo pushed off the table, dropping her jacket and weapons onto one of the chairs. "Well, I'll say it. You've really got the hots for that woman. What'd she do to you?" The Rattataki flopped down beside her gear, kicking her legs over the side, while she waved the on ship protocol droid over for snacks.

"Missed connection," Zolah answered. She flicked her wrist to clear the screen of yet another false lead. "You can't tell me you wouldn't be interested too." The Chiss cast a wry smile in Kaliyo's direction.

The thug's bald head tipped to one side as she squinted at the image from Fynta Wolfe's military file. Zolah had pulled it from an old bounty that General Rakton had put out on Havoc Squad more than a year earlier, leading the Chiss to believe that his death had been a revenge killing. "She's not bad. Not really my type, though." Kaliyo ran her eyes over the agent. "I like 'em skinnier." Zolah smirked and returned her attention to the task at hand.

The cipher agent had just opened a new file when her holo chirped. The frequency on display registered as restricted, and Zolah's heart skipped a beat, knowing this was the call she'd been waiting for. As expected, Lana Beniko appeared in muted blues.

"Ah, there you are Cipher." Lana's tone sounded clipped, on the verge of exasperation, and Zolah wondered if there had been any casualties amongst the misfit crew yet. "We have a new target, and I believe your technical expertise will come in handy. Sending coordinates now."

Zolah glanced at her husband. Vector understood her desire for justice, but became more hesitant upon learning the culprit's identity. He stated that it would be unwise to cross Lana by attacking her new asset. Zolah didn't dispute his logic, she had simply decided to let her emotions win out, just this once.

Vector nodded that he had received the location, and Zolah returned her attention to the Sith. "We've got them. Will this be a solo job?"

Lana shook her head, blond hair brushing the tops of her shoulders. "No, we are still working with Agent Shan and Havoc Squad. I believe it's time you met in person."

Zolah smiled at the shimmering holo. "Looking forward to it."

 **The Thunderclap  
** **One month later**

"Sixty-seven… sixty-eight… sixty-nine…" Yuun counted off for Jorgan, Vik, Cormac, and Fynta. Boredom had been an excellent motivator for competition, leading Cormac to issue a challenge that he could do more pull ups than the rest of them. Fynta couldn't let that stand.

They'd needed to go down to the engine room to find something sturdy enough to hold everyone. The heat and steam from the different components made Fynta's hands sweat; not to mention, sapping her energy. "…seventy-two… seventy-three."

Yuun walked down the catwalk, Aric and Balic on one side, Fynta and Tanno on the other. She needed to at least hold out longer than Vik. There was no way she'd let him win.

Fynta pulled her chin up above the bar for the seventy-fifth time and saw the same determination in Jorgan's eyes. His markings made it look like his face was trapped in a perpetual scowl, so it surprised her when he caught her eye and winked. For some reason, Aric had been in a playful mood the last few days.

"Seventy-six."

Vik's hands slipped, and he collapsed in a big pile of worn out Weequay. Cormac shook with laughter and promptly lost his grip. He managed to hold on with one hand for a couple more turns, but eventually that arm gave out too. Those big muscles weighed a lot more than lean ones, and pulling all that bulk up with one hand had to be murder on his shoulder. "Alright, down to the bosses," he panted, sitting on the floor and massaging his arms.

"Seventy-nine… eighty." Yuun continued to count.

Fynta's arms began to tremble, and she could see Aric grinding his teeth. He was wearing out too, but it didn't look like he was going to give up. She briefly considered letting him have it, but knew it would bug him. Then, he would bug her.

"Sirs." All eyes turned to find Elara hanging upside down from the hatch that led into the ship, her pale hair, loose from its regulation bun, created a hilarious halo around her head. Fynta snickered and narrowly avoided following Cormac's example. "We've got an incoming transmission from Lana Beniko requesting a rendezvous."

"Draw?" Jorgan suggested.

 _I could kiss him_. "Deal." They dropped at the same time, and the shock traveled up through Fynta's right side into her jaw. Surprisingly, she'd finally gotten used to the weird, muted sensations from her left. Her hip and lower back still ached in the cold, or if she slept wrong, but things couldn't have progressed any better.

"Be right up, Dorne." Fynta answered. Once the rest of her body stopped trembling, that was.

Fynta rested her hands on her knees while Cormac and Vik started up the ladder. She felt the familiar warmth of Aric's hand on her lower back, slipping under her shirt to stroke over the scars. For the most part, they kept their love life confined to closed doors, but the little gestures here and there helped keep the romance fresh. He offered a questioning look when Fynta straightened, and she shook her head in response. She really was fine, just out of shape from sitting around waiting for Theron's call.

Dorne handed out towels as they emerged from the engine room. Cormac flexed his shoulder, and Elara scolded him for being reckless. He'd injured it on Manaan when the Force using Selkath threw him across the room, and he had yet to complete the medic's treatment regimen. The big man took her admonishments in stride and planted a kiss on her lips to shut her up.

Afterward, Elara started in on how bad he smelled. "Off to the showers, now." She waved him away, making a show of holding her nose.

Fynta climbed the stairs to the bridge to accept Lana's call and coordinates. Something smacked her ass. She spun to find Jorgan standing behind her with a feral grin and a rolled up towel. Being the mature one, Fynta stuck her tongue out by way of retaliation before answering the call. "Hey, Lana. Everyone still alive?" She barely knew the Sith, but had found her likable from the moment she offered to pull her and Cormac off the doomed underwater laboratory.

"For now." Lana still sounded cheerful, but tired, like a mother trying to round up her rowdy children. "Theron wishes to meet with you. I'm transmitting coordinates now." Something crashed in the background, and Lana let out an exasperated sigh. "Do hurry, please." Then, the call cut out.

"Sounds like she's got her hands full," Jorgan commented, his lips twitching up slightly, clearly enjoying this far too much. "Where are we headed?"

Fynta read the coordinates, then punched them into the navisystem three times before Jorgan finally came to look over her shoulder. The Cathar sucked in a breath and almost swore. Fynta wasn't so stingy with her expletives. "Fierfek," she spat. "That's Rakata Prime."

**Orbit around Csilla**

Zolah stood outside the airlock and waited while the seals finished pressurizing. Lana had put them in orbit around the Chiss homeworld, though it meant little to Zolah. She'd been born on Dromund Kaas to a woman named Miki'nos'boro, who had taken up work in the Rakton household as a servant after her husband's death. When Miki had seen a pattern in the code that had Arkos' daughter stumped, she'd put herself on the general's radar. He'd watched Miki, testing her, until finally reaching the conclusion that she'd be more useful to the Empire as a Watcher, than his household servant.

Arkos Rakton had convinced Miki of her duty by putting Zolah through the best schools. He'd taught the young Chiss self-defense and the art of subterfuge, grooming her into an asset or soldier from an early age. The war hero did not turn his back on her after Miki died, and Zolah would be forever grateful.

The airlock seals cracked, and Zolah found herself face to face with the attractive SIS agent, Theron Shan. "Hi, you must be Lana's secret weapon. I'm Theron."

"Yes, you are," the Chiss smiled, letting her eyes glide over him.

The SIS agent shifted. "Okay, then." Theron stepped aside and waved Zolah aboard the dilapidated smuggler ship. "Does this mean the Empire has a file on me?"

Zolah's smile turned coy. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Theron chuckled as they climbed the stairs towards the bridge where Lana argued with the Wookie. "Jakarro, I will not repeat myself again, we will move when the time is—ah, agent." Lana waved her hands at the Wookie and descended the steep ladder to meet her assets on the second level. "We have a lot of work to do, and Havoc Squad is already en route."

"Where are we going?" Zolah asked, crossing her arms while keeping an eye on Theron. She'd been curious about him since Lana authorized access to his file. It wasn't extensive, but there was enough to give the impression that he'd be a career collar.

"Rakata Prime," Theron answered, staring down at a datapad. "I'm sending you all the intel we've managed to put together on our objective there. Looks like Arkous and Darok have set up house." Zolah's implant chirped to inform her that she'd received an encoded message.

Theron looked up with a grin, a rather attractive look on him. "It should be waiting for you, Agent Holran." The Chiss' eyebrows twitched at the use of her name. "We have files too."

Zolah lifted a corner of her mouth in an amused smirk, one she was sure the SIS agent interpreted correctly, though Lana looked quite startled for her part. "I think we are going to have a lot of fun together, Theron."

**Rakata Prime**

Theron Shan looked exhausted when Havoc finally arrived at the rendezvous. The man sported a permanent five o'clock shadow, bags under his eyes, and it didn't appear that Fynta's arrival helped matters. Jorgan smirked as Shan rubbed the bridge of his nose while arguing tactics with Fynta. There was clear chemistry between the two, but it reminded the Cathar more of siblings than lovers. Meanwhile, Lana stood to the side with a pleasant smile, her gaze bouncing back and forth between her Republic allies. He still wasn't sure how he felt about working with a Sith

Fynta crossed her arms, tapping her chin with her forefinger. "An assault is going to have to hit hard and fast if what you've said is true, Theron."

Shan ran a hand through his hair and blew all the air out of his lungs. "Which is why I wanted Havoc Squad here. That cyborg technology you ran into on Manaan was just the prototype phase. On Rakata Prime, they're in full production. They're taking pieces of the Star Forge and implanting them into their own people."

Cormac's head snapped around, and the big man lumbered over to join the conversation. "The giant self-sustaining factory that was supposed to run on the dark side of the Force?" He asked with hands on hips. " _That_ Star Forge?" Theron nodded, and Cormac whistled. "I thought it was a myth."

When Fynta raised an eyebrow at the big man, he offered a sheepish shrug. "I know things."

"Right," Shan nodded. "Revan destroyed it three hundred years ago. However, the pieces of debris are still active. They self-repair, and even self-replicate under the right circumstances. With that technology grafted into their bodies, the Revanites become much harder to stop."

Jorgan kept his expression neutral, but wondered when Fynta planned telling the rest of this odd alliance that _they_ had released Revan back into the galaxy. Which begged the question of what had happened to the little, green, Jedi Master watching over him.

"Alright, let's get this started. Havoc Squad, form up," Fynta ordered, "Make sure you're stocked on rations and water. There is no telling how long we'll be here."

The blue skinned Chiss woman they'd met earlier stuck her head out the loading bay door of the smuggler's ship. "Theron, I've completed reprogramming Jakarro's mapping system." Shan had introduced the woman as Agent Zolah Holran. Jorgan thought that name sounded entirely too human for a Chiss. Fynta wagered it was either a false identity, or an abbreviation of her birth name. Regardless, it looked like they'd finally met Lana's backup.

Theron nodded over his shoulder before returning his attention to the soldiers. "I'll keep track of your progress from Jakarro's shuttle in orbit. This is your show, Fynta." He slapped her shoulder, then jogged up the ramp to join Zolah, where a loud argument between Theron and the Wookie broke out immediately.

Lana took a steadying breath before turning iridescent, orange eyes on the major. "May the Force serve you."

**Rakatan Jungle**

"Dorne, really, I'm fine." Fynta waved her friend away, but the medic wouldn't have it.

Elara grabbed Fynta's pauldron and gave a vicious yank to the left, intentionally putting the major off balance. "I waited until we were out of sight of the Rakata so as not to spurn your new reputation, but in matters of squad health, I outrank you, _Major_. Now, respectfully, submit to medical examination, or I'll have you restrained."

Havoc Squad had taken on yet another massive creature in one of the local villages' arenas. This time, everyone kept their helmets on, and no one got hurt. Fynta had taken one hit, only one, but Elara was convinced that she needed a full medteam around the clock. The major glared at Dorne, who'd shown that she wasn't above taking advantage of Fynta's weakness to ensure proper health care protocols were followed.

Elara didn't relinquish her hold until Fynta sat. "Are you sure you don't have any Mando in you, Dorne?"

The medic's mouth twitched at the corners as she set about her examination "Quite sure, sir. My bloodline is traceable back for hundreds of years."

Cormac crossed his arms and snorted, "Then, you married a mutt."

Fynta chuckled and threw a rock at the big soldier before focusing on Dorne again. "So, why isn't Jorgan being bullied into this examination too?" He'd been knocked from his perch when the creature swung wide, landing on his back. The Cathar offered no more than a grunt and a muttered curse before rejoining the fight from the ground.

"Because he wisely submitted the moment I asked," Elara replied flippantly. "He didn't make me badger him for a full klick." Jorgan smirked and folded his arms across his chest plate, clearly pleased with himself. Fynta opened her mouth to say something decidedly impolite.

Lana interrupted before the first syllable left her lips. "Looks like you're nearly at the Temple, tread carefully." Fynta huffed, having lost her moment, and the Sith continued. "Theron and Zolah have patched into one of the planet's satellites—"

"They are _ancient_ ," Theron complained from the background.

"—and have been able to map out more of the terrain. Hopefully, they will be able pinpoint our targets by the time you make the temple," Lana finished, unperturbed by Theron's infringement.

So far, working with Lana hadn't been the nightmare that Jorgan and Cormac predicted. She hadn't threatened to kill anyone yet, at least. Fynta didn't see that much of a difference between Sith and Jedi. They both wielded forces beyond their control, honoring those with the highest kill count and most power. How they differed from any other political establishment was lost on her, and Fynta was perfectly happy to stay away from all of them.

Out of everyone, Theron appeared to be the most disgruntled. Not that Fynta blamed him, the man was trapped in orbit with a Sith and an Imperial cipher agent. Fynta had heard of those, they were the real deal.

"There. See. That didn't take too long." Dorne leaned back and appraised her work, having bandaged a small cut above Fynta's eyebrow that she hadn't even known was there. Of course, _now_ it stung.

"Thanks, Dorne." Fynta touched the spot and winced at the flare of pain. She'd have been better off leaving it alone. "Alright, Havoc. Break's over, let's move out."

The entrance of the temple lay on a sandy hill across an open lagoon. They'd come across one Rakata hunting party, but as soon as they recognized Havoc's armor, the natives lowered their weapons and waved the soldiers through. Clearly, their exploits from the arena had preceded them. "Look at that, you've got a fan club," Theron snarked, sounding less pleased than Fynta expected. "I overheard some Revanites near your position. Be careful."

"Thanks for the heads up, buy'ce on everyone." The major waited until her squad was situated, then opened the channel. "We'll be fighting soldiers and Force users from both sides. Remember, these are not your brothers. They are the enemy."

No one answered. Not that Fynta expected them too. Gunning down Sith kids had been bad enough, but now Havoc faced the prospect of killing their fellow soldiers. Men and women they'd otherwise trust to watch their backs.

"We've got contact ahead," Cormac reported as they neared the lowest ramp leading up to the temple. He sucked in a breath. "Shab, is that a Jedi?"

"That is a _Revanite_ , Sergeant," Lana reminded kindly. "He is our enemy, the same as any Sith Revanites you might encounter."

Fynta interjected to keep another spat from breaking out. Her men were on edge, something the Sith might find difficult to fathom. "Okay, Havoc. Don't think about it, just open up with everything you've got, and we'll overwhelm him."

Given that projectile ammo was more expensive than plasma charge packs, Fynta had split their weapons. Elara, Yuun, and Vik carried their energy rifles, while she and Cormac sported the heavier slugthrowers. Jorgan would alternate, since he could change out barrels quickly on his sniper rifle, and used a different type of round. The type to be used sparingly.

"What, no choreographed hand to hand?" Vik asked.

"Think you're up for it?"

Fynta's challenge met a gravelly chuckle. "Right. Full auto it is."

On Fynta's signal, she and Cormac burst from behind the brush with controlled bursts. The Rakata fell where they stood, but the Jedi got in a few lucky blocks before being hit in the stomach and leg. Fynta put another one into his head to end his misery, and Havoc Squad moved on.

"Well, that probably announced our arrival," Theron grumbled.

"If you've got a better way to deal with Force users, you're more than welcome to come down here and show us," Jorgan growled. Fynta let him have his moment. Not because he was her husband, but because he was right. In an op as delicate as this one, she didn't need management breathing down their necks.

Pushing her squad forward again, Fynta braced her shoulders for a long day ahead. One that would require her to kill Jedi, Sith, and misguided soldiers.

**Rakatan Temple Entrance**

"Wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the humidity," Jorgan commented while Havoc took a much needed water break. The Cathar took a deep breath of the heavy, warm air. The local flora gave off a pungent scent that drowned out everything, making Jorgan feel like he needed to sneeze.

"Getting a little frizzy around the edges, Captain?" Fynta taunted, popping up on her toes to rub the top of his head.

Jorgan brushed her hand away, fully aware that they were being monitored by the people on Jakarro's ship. "Ha Ha," he answered. Though, these little moments of quiet teasing were what he lived for. Before the Cathar could become too sentimental, he redirected the conversation towards their surroundings. "This has to be the place."

Fynta lifted her canteen, nodding to where Jorgan's still hung on his belt. "My father always said that the best place to store water was in the body." She tipped the rest of the liquid down her throat before securing it, and looked around at the fat leaves with a sighed. "I've got a bad vibe."

"Ah, shab," Cormac complained from where he sat under a rocky ledge. "Fynta's vibes are nearly as good as whatever Yuun does to finds things."

Everyone froze when the sound of a man's shouting drifted towards them. "You are the best! You _will not_ allow this platform to fall!" Jorgan knew the sound of a drill instructor when he heard one. Vik raised an eyebrow at Fynta as she cocked her head to the side.

"Infinite Army conscripts. They're further along with production than we suspected," Lana commented as if it were no more than an interesting oversight.

"It is interesting that they managed to stay hidden for so long," Zolah added just as casually, leading Jorgan to the conclusion that _all_ intelligence agents were bantha dwang crazy. No matter their loyalties.

Fynta motioned for Havoc to get their helmets back on while whispering over her comm, "You mean they're fully kitted?" It had taken burning the Selkath alive to kill it on Manaan, and there weren't any conveniently placed gas pipes out here.

"Looks that way," Theron answered.

Jorgan took point, leading Havoc towards the sound of men preparing for battle. They crouched at the edge of the platform in order to buy time to develop a plan. "Those are some seriously big blokes, boss," Cormac added, peeking over the ledge.

Fynta remained quiet for a few seconds, then her helmet turned towards the Weequay. "Vik, got any more of those special devices?"

"Two."

"They are self-repairing. I don't think an implosion bomb will do it," Jorgan cautioned.

"It won't, but it might keep them still long enough for us to frag them," Fynta answered, and Jorgan turned full on to look at his commanding officer. She shrugged, "Only so much technology can put back together." Sometimes, he forgot just how brutal Fynta could be, and these peeks into the way her mind worked startled him.

"Jorgan, do you have your rocket launcher attachment?" When he didn't answer, Fynta's faceplate swiveled to meet him. Jorgan nodded, swallowing past the bile in his throat. "Vik, give the devices to Aric. He's our best shot. We'll fire into the middle of the formation. Once they are down, hit them with everything you've got."

The idea of what they were about to do twisted Jorgan's stomach, but he shoved it down when Fynta's voice brought him back to reality. The objective stood on the other side, and they needed to get there no matter what. "Everyone ready?" Havoc answered with a chorus of _yes, sir_ as Jorgan fitted the attachment to his sniper rifle.

Vik loaded the first device, then thumped Jorgan's helmet to let him know it was ready. "Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur _,_ " Fynta intoned. _Today is a good day for someone else to die_. It had become Havoc Squad's battle cry whenever they faced uncertain odds. It was how she kept her squad's morale up; it worked. "Fire when ready, Captain."

Jorgan sighted up, took a few deep breaths, and squeezed the trigger. His rifle kicked more than expected, the sound echoing with a muted _crack_ in the heavy atmosphere. Still, it rang in his ears even with the noise reduction feature in his helmet.

The sphere spun through the air, and one of the Revanite soldiers took aim. "Reload!" Jorgan called over his shoulder just as he felt Vik push on the back of his weapon.

The cyborg soldier fired, and the sphere blew four meters in the air. They were heavy men with a lot of tech inside, but the bomb had enough force to lift their feet off the ground. More than a few lost their weapons to the suction. Jorgan fired again. This time, it landed in the middle and detonated the way they'd planned it.

The men were pulled into a pile of cracking bone and escaping fluids. Had Jorgan stopped to consider what was happening, he'd be mortified by what those sounds meant. As it was, he had Fynta barking individual orders to keep Havoc focused, before ending with a generalized, "Go! Go! Go!"

Jorgan reacted, both aware and oblivious to what the others were doing. He pulled two grenades from his belt and lobbed them into the writhing horde. "Everyone take cover!" Fynta called. It occurred to Jorgan as he ducked behind a pillar that this was going to be messy.

The combined blast of who knew how many grenades pushed Jorgan forward and cracked the pillar he sheltered behind. The Cathar didn't want to, but he had to check to make sure they were clear. When he peered around his shield, the scene looked a lot like he expected. He was just glad he couldn't smell it yet. Vomiting in a helmet would ruin a soldier's day in a hurry.

"Everyone move. Now," Fynta ordered, pushing them on, getting her soldiers away from the carnage before it could sink in.

Havoc pounded up the stairs, refusing to slow until they were inside. "Well. That was—unpleasant," Theron remarked. Jorgan caught himself before he could say anything too insubordinate; just barely.

"Once you reach the main conscription site, open the log on the control console. Theron can slice it remotely that way. If we can control them, we can use them to take on the Jedi and Sith you most likely will encounter." Lana continued, making no mention of the gruesome scene Jorgan was sure she could see.

"On it." Fynta had put herself at the back of the squad, putting herself between Havoc and the massacre. Keeping her tone low and authoritative, the major continued. "Let's go, Havoc."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> buy'ce [BOO-chay, BOO-shay] helmet


	41. Face of the Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very special shout out to salacious_crumpet for helping me find that part of Vector I'd been missing. You rock, Crumpet!

**The Red Blade**

Vector waited on the bridge as they orbited Manaan. Zolah had successfully infiltrated the secretive alliance between Republic and Empire. The joiner worried, however. His wife hadn't been herself lately. She'd acted rashly when closing in on a target, throwing out meticulous planning in favor of expedient results. The previous two occurrences, in particular, had been sloppy, leaving behind far too many corpses to remain covert.

The last time Zolah had resorted to such brutish behavior had been while under control of the mind-imprisoning Castellan Restraints. Vector had known something was wrong, but she assured him that everything was fine when he questioned it. Now, he knew it had been her conditioning, and he'd failed to protect her. Since then, the joiner kept an eye out for signs of relapse. He worried that the trauma of General Rakton's death had triggered something, perhaps a failsafe, in her mind.

"Vector, come in." Zolah's voice rang from the central comm, and the joiner pushed himself from the chair he'd lounged in for too long. "Do you copy?"

"We are here," Vector answered. He and Kaliyo had stayed behind, awaiting Zolah's report. She'd already informed them that the shuttle was returning to Manaan.

Apparently, Revan had arrived with an armada at his back. They'd been forced to leave Jakarro and Havoc Squad behind on Rakata Prime in order to escape with their lives. Vector heard the irritation in his wife's voice. Not that they'd left men behind. No, the cipher agent was far too practical to risk any mission over a rescue op, Zolah was annoyed because she believed Major Fynta Wolfe to be dead. Revan had stolen her kill.

Kaliyo gave a derisive snort, ignoring Vector's warning glare. The Rattataki had not been pleasant company. She'd raged about not being allowed to explore the planet, how bored she was, and repeatedly asked when the agent would be back. The joiner had tapped into his extensive reserves of patience to avoid being openly hostile. However, if she planned to goad Zolah into some foolish action, he planned to intervene.

Zolah's image had yet to appear, and her voice stayed at a near whisper. "Theron and Lana are waiting anxiously for the return of Havoc Squad. _She_ believes they are still alive."

A cruel smile twisted Kaliyo's features. "Good. If they're right, you can get your vengeance, and we can ditch this place."

Vector scowled at the Rattataki for being purposely vexing, and attempted to steer the conversation away from murdering a Sith's favored ally. "What is your assessment?"

"Lana, Jakarro, and Theron are going on the run. The Dark Council has put a bounty on Lord Beniko's head, while Theron is now classified as a rogue agent. Both sides have added new death marks to Jakarro's already extensive list of infractions," Zolah answered. "If they did survive, he should be pleased."

"And _if_ they survived?" Kaliyo pressed.

"Havoc Squad can be replaced," Zolah answered immediately, while Vector dropped his head in grief. It was clear that she would not give up on this path, even when it defied all logic. He sighed heavily, letting his aggravation translate through the silence.

The joiner had said his piece more than once. Until now, he'd held out hope that his wife had listened. "Shan is the person of interest," Zolah continued, clearly unwilling to discuss Major Wolfe further.

Vector let himself be derailed, shifting focus onto the SIS agent. He no doubt had access to the highest security clearance, or at least knew how to slice in. If Zolah could deliver Shan to the Empire for questioning. . . .

"He's not so foolish as to let his guard down easily," the joiner commented to no one in particular. "Getting close will be difficult."

Only Zolah's breathing transmitted over the comms, the silence indicating that she was running through a multitude of calculations. Finally, Vector asked the question that had come to his mind first. "Do you think you can seduce him?" Chiss were considered exotic in the Republic, more so than in the Empire. A fact that Zolah had used multiple times in order to expedite a mission. She claimed that men would say anything if they were desperate enough, and sex was faster than torture.

Coming from a background where the hive shared everything, Vector found Zolah's encounters distasteful, rather than disloyal. She did what she must to benefit the Empire, much the same as any Killik would do for the hive, despite the unsavory nature of many of her targets.

"It'll take time," Zolah answered with a sigh. "Perhaps, if I can convince him to let me tag along—" she cut off abruptly, sucking in a breath. "You've got to be kriffing kidding me."

"See, I told you they'd make it," Lana called, her voice muted in the background. Vector mirrored his wife's shock. Havoc Squad was alive.

**Manaan Surface**

Fynta made sure to get Cormac squared away before the meeting. Revan had shown up on Rakata Prime and started an aerial bombardment, his version of a tantrum because Havoc killed his pawns. He'd droned on about how strong he was, how not even the Emperor could destroy him, so what chance did they have? Fynta had taken that as a personal challenge. Though she might have smarted off a _bit, s_ he stood by her assessment that Revan would have bombed the temple anyway.

They'd barely made it to Arkous and Darok's shuttle before the building disintegrated into rubble. As the ground collapsed under their feet, Balic had grabbed Elara's hand, dislocating his shoulder completely when her dead weight came to a jarring halt when the shuttle lifted man was currently inebriated in the ship's medbay. Elara claimed that he'd torn some of the ligaments in the joint and would likely require surgery to repair them. But, the man had saved his wife from certain death, so it wasn't a total wash.

Jakarro piloted all the way back to Manaan, raving about the wellbeing of his ship the entire time. Fynta physically put herself between Vik, Jorgan, and the Wookie at one point. She reflected afterward that it had been the first glimmer of teamwork between the Weequay and Cathar in nearly four years. The only problem being that it was to throttle their pilot.

Upon their arrival, Theron wasted no time filling Fynta and Jorgan in on the poor luck that he and Lana had run into career wise. They planned to go on the run. Fynta tried to talk Theron out of it, making a bid for the whole _we'll work better as a team_ angle, but he remained adamant.

"The Revanites haven't been able to touch you yet, your record is still clean. But, it won't stay that way if you're seen with us," Theron argued. "So, Lana, Jakarro, Deefour, and I are all going off the grid. We need to stay hidden if we're going to continue our investigation. No contact, period."

Fynta scowled at the man. "Are you about to do something stupid, Theron?"

"No more than you would," Agent Shan responded. He checked his chrono and sighed. "All right, I'd better get moving. The faster we start running, the easier this will be. We'll send word as soon as we have something, and then see what this Revan guy is really made of."

"Be careful, Theron," Fynta added, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're no good to me dead."

Theron offered a genuine smile, one that Fynta hadn't seen in years. She didn't register the danger in those warm, hazel eyes until he had a firm grip on her waist and his lips pressed against hers. The kiss was fleeting, hardly anything, but the knowledge that her husband was standing right behind them knocked the breath from her lungs.

"You too," Theron responded, releasing Fynta with a grin. He no doubt thought that he'd gotten the drop on her as he spun on his heel and headed for the door. _Oh, he sure as shab did,_ her inner voice scolded.

Fynta had just enough time to grab Jorgan's arm before the Cathar went after Shan. "Aric, stop," she hissed. He shot her a murderous glare and snatched his arm away.

"Damn SIS agents," the Cathar muttered as he stalked back towards the ship.

Fynta released the breath she hadn't realized she held with a curse. "Fierfek." As if her life wasn't complicated enough already.

**Private Hangar**

"No farewell for me, Agent Shan?" Zolah crooned, stopping Theron in his tracks. She'd positioned herself just inside the door. The kiss between the agent and the major had been interesting, she hadn't gotten the impression that they'd been romantically involved. However, the _Cathar's_ reaction was blatant enough. Zolah filed that away for later use.

"Oh, sorry?" Theron glanced around the room as if expecting Sith to materialize at the snap of Zolah's fingers. Little did he know how dangerous that would be for her.

Zolah took a step towards Theron and smiled when he didn't back away. "Come now, I can't be all that intimidating." She eased a little closer, brushing imaginary lint from his shoulder. The man tensed, but didn't go for his weapon. She let her hand slide down to his bicep, giving the muscle a squeeze. "I'm sure you could overpower me."

"Look," Theron caught her hand gently and moved it away from him. "I'm flattered, really. Hell, I'll even go so far as to admit that I'm tempted." Tempted, interesting. Perhaps Theron wasn't the monogamous type after all. "But, we've got a psychotic, three hundred year old Force user to track down." The man offered a crooked smile. "Rain check?"

"Such a shame. Though, it's hard to hold a candle to Major Wolfe," Zolah added in a light voice. She kept a flirty air about her, but in truth, she needed to know how strong the bond between the two was.

"That?" Theron nodded in the direction he'd come from. "No, I did that just to screw with her." At Zolah's raised eyebrow, Agent Shan rubbed the back of his neck. "It's a long story."

Theron glanced over his shoulder when the door opened to reveal Lana, waving him over impatiently. A glimmer of amusement reflected in his dark eyes when he returned his attention to Zolah. "Don't worry, I'm sure we'll see one another again."

The cipher waited for Theron to disappear into the private dock, then turned on her heel. She could still salvage part of this mission, if she worked fast. Activating her comm implant with a click of her teeth, Zolah picked up her pace. "Kaliyo, grab my rifle and meet me at these coordinates.

Twenty minutes later, Zolah propped the muzzle of her sniper rifle in the curve of the building across the marketplace. She didn't need a weapon of this caliber for such a short distance, but the Chiss agent believed in doing a thorough job. After all, there were no political ramifications for taking out a Republic soldier on Manaan, so a messy kill was perfectly acceptable. Soldiers could be replaced, and Major Wolfe's demise would serve to further isolate Agent Shan as much as fulfill Zolah's need for vengeance.

Zolah had chosen Kaliyo for this particular excursion, leaving her husband on the ship. The cipher stared down her sights, ever vigilant in case her target appeared somewhere other than expected. She'd sent Kaliyo to cause a scene that would require the two soldiers to intervene in, giving Zolah time to set up. The Rattataki didn't object to a revenge killing, in fact, she had always been on board with any killing. They'd worked together long enough that both women trusted the other not to put a bolt in their back. Mostly.

"On their way, Agent," Kaliyo warned over the comms. "Hope you're ready."

The Chiss took a few breaths, following the routine to steady her heart rate. She glanced at the digital anemometer on her scope and adjusted for the increased wind speed. Zolah kept her weapon trained as she shifted roughly four meters to the left of the market entrance.

The implant in Zolah's ear clicked to inform her of an incoming call. "Yes, Vector?" She answered sweetly.

"This is a bad idea," her husband responded, not even remotely moved by her attempt at innocence.

Zolah glanced at the anemometer again, then made a couple of quick calculations. She factored in humidity, before deciding that it wouldn't be a problem. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

Vector sighed and disconnected, leaving Zolah with mixed feelings about his disappointment in her decision. The agent shook the distraction away when familiar armor caught her attention. Fynta and her Cathar had removed their helmets, believing themselves safe. It was Zolah's duty to ensure they understood how foolish of a notion _safe_ was.

The cipher sighted up, running through her routine again, counting her heartbeats, then let all the air out of her lungs in one, slow breath. Everything stilled as she squeezed the trigger. The rifle cracked, and the major hit the ground.

Captain Jorgan threw himself over his commanding officer as the marketplace erupted into chaos, patrons running in every direction. Despite all of the momentum of the moment, Zolah knew something had gone wrong. The agent swore when Fynta sat up, sidearm in hand, and watched with dismay as the two soldiers scrambled for cover. Somehow, Zolah had missed the kill shot.

"Vector." The joiner's name escaped her lips as a curse. Zolah gathered her rifle, slinging it across her back instead of breaking it down to stow in the case. While everyone was distracted, she rappelled down the line she'd left attached to the building.

Back at the ship, Kaliyo waited in the hall leading to the airlock. "What the hell, agent?" The Rattataki woman spread her arms out in expectation of an answer for why the mission had gone wrong. "How did you miss the damn target?" Zolah growled her response, and Kaliyo took the hint to back off with only a few muttered expletives.

Vector waited in their room, hands folded in his lap, and legs crossed at the knees. For once there were no datapads to distract him, just the silence of their safe space. Zolah stormed in and keyed the door shut behind her. She tossed her sniper rifle onto the bed between them. "You mucked with my sights." Her bolt had struck the major's shoulder instead of her exposed head. That close to the target, with such low wind speeds, there was no other explanation; he was the only other person with access to the weapon.

Vector took a deep breath and looked down at shirt, rubbing his palms over it to smooth out the wrinkles. "Yes, we did."

"How dare you touch my weapon," the Chiss snarled, jabbing a finger at her husband.

Zolah shook with anger. She wouldn't get another chance. Havoc would be more vigilant in the future, _if_ she could find them again. Vector's all black eyes met hers, and he spread his hands, palms up. "You must put away your anger and see reason, love," the joiner stated calmly. "Major Wolfe is under Lord Beniko's protection for the time being. While she may be—unusual—for a Sith, we do not doubt that her wrath would be fierce."

"That was not your call," Zolah nearly shouted. She reminded herself that they were on a ship with other crew members, and while she fumed, she did not wish to include everyone else in this private matter. "That woman stood over the only true patriot left to the Empire, a man I believed in, and put a bolt in his head, Vector."

The Chiss woman began to pace, her breathing short and ragged. Normally, she had more control than this. As a matter of fact, Zolah hadn't been this out of sorts since her first weeks in the academy.

"She did," Vector allowed with a slight nod. "No doubt she has killed many a man like your beloved Rakton. Women and children, too." His tone stayed level. Had it been anyone else, Zolah might have called it condescending, but that wasn't Vector's way.

Zolah stopped and narrowed her eyes at the joiner. "Get to your meaning."

The man stood and closed the small space between them, resting his hands gently on Zolah's shoulders. The Chiss expected to shy away from his touch, but she didn't. "This Major Wolfe sounds much like someone else we know."

Vector gave Zolah's shoulders a light squeeze, accompanying it with a pleasant smile, then bent to retrieve his duffle from under the desk. "We will take our leave of you tonight, and hope that you will invite us back tomorrow."

The joiner kissed Zolah's forehead and excused himself from her room to find lodging elsewhere on the ship. A part of her wanted to tell Vector that he was being silly, that she hadn't intended to kick him out. However, that had been exactly what Zolah planned to do, even if she hadn't formulated the thought yet. She was furious, and while she'd allowed his touch, the mere thought of sharing a bed with him enraged her further.

Crossing to the door, Zolah keyed it shut again. Her window of opportunity had closed, both for Fynta and Vector. While his calm logic made sense, it did little to dissuade her need for vengeance. Zolah closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. She'd never allowed herself to become emotionally involved in her missions before. Rakton had saved her and her mother from a life of servitude to the Sith. He deserved her devotion, even in death.

_Is the life you lead now any different?_ Watcher X's voice whispered in the back of Zolah's mind. While under the Castellan Restraints, her subconscious had conjured the old Watcher's likeness through some device he'd implanted in her central nervous system. Together, they'd broken Ardon Kothe's hold over her mind, allowing her to kill him and his cowardly team. That had been slavery, of sorts, but now she was free again. Free to choose her targets, even if she felt bound to this particular one.

As Zolah's blood pressure returned to normal, cold logic followed on its heels. She'd spent a year searching for General Rakton's killer. If she were patient, her time would come again. No one outside of her crew knew that the Republic major had been her target. Next time, she'd strike quickly. Zolah knew there would be a next time. Theron Shan was too closely linked with the woman. When Revan popped up again, he'd call her, and Zolah would be ready.

**The Thunderclap**

"Shab, Dorne,"Fynta swore as Elara stitched her shoulder. Jorgan watched the women as he paced just inside the medbay. Even though they were in hyperspace, he still felt antsy. Someone had taken a shot at Fynta on a neutral planet, and he had no idea why.

Cormac leaned against the table opposite of Fynta with one arm resting on top of the sling that stabilized his shoulder. "You must be pretty important now, boss." Vik chuckled from the main room, while Yuun examined the charred mark on Fynta's chest plate. "That ever happen before?"

Fynta shook her head. "Nope. I've been shot, stabbed, and interrogated by Imps. Never the target of an assassination attempt, though." She grinned back at the big man. "I'm moving up in the galaxy."

"Would you two please take this seriously?" Jorgan growled, resuming pacing. They'd carried on for twenty minutes, with unwanted tips from Vik about staying ahead of a death mark. The Cathar thought that _maybe_ his wife had grown up a little since nearly losing her life on Corellia. But, it sounded like the blasted woman was still just as hell bent on getting herself killed as ever.

"I agree with the captain," Elara added as she dabbed the small wound with kolto. "Why were you targeted?"

Fynta waved at Cormac for the shirt that she'd left on the table he sat on. "I've pissed off a lot of people," the major commented, her voice muffled as the fabric passed over her face. She flexed her shoulder and winced. "Looks like an amateur, my heart's on the other side."

"That assessment is incorrect, Major." Jorgan stepped out of the way as Yuun entered the medbay carrying Fynta's armor. "Yuun has examined these burns in great detail and has discovered their origins." Jorgan's ears twitched even as his heart rate spiked. They needed to get in front of this before it could get worse. The Gand glanced up, blinking slowly. "The bolt fired came from an Imperial weapon, high caliber, military grade."

Jorgan snarled, settling an angry glare on his wife. "Plan to take it seriously now?" He spun, stomping from the room and nearly bowling Vik over.

The Cathar shoved the door open, running a hand down his face. He knew this kriffing alliance with a Sith was a bad idea. Fynta's datapad lit up with a new message as he passed the desk. Generally speaking, Jorgan didn't pry into her private mailbox, even though they'd both given each other access. When Balkar's name flashed across the screen, he couldn't help himself. Theron had kissed his wife, and now Balkar wanted a piece too. Swiping a finger over the biometric lock, the letter appeared.

_I heard from Theron. He couldn't wait to rub it in that he got to spend time with you while I was stuck halfway across the galaxy. You've still got a knack for finding all of the action, huh? Wish I could lend a hand, but this Denon job is getting nastier by the day._

_As second choices go, Theron's pretty solid, I guess. He doesn't have my charm, of course, but he's a sharp field agent. You can count on him if things go sideways. Then again, you already know that, don't you?_

_All right, gotta cut this off, local contact wants his turn on the station. The guy says maybe ten words out loud per day, then writes as least a thousand in every nightly report. At least he plays Sabacc._

_Missing better company,_

_Jonas._

The door opened, and Fynta peaked around. "Is it safe to enter?"

Jorgan rolled his eyes and tossed the datapad onto the bed. "Missing better company," he grumbled, pointing a finger at it.

Fynta eased inside and padded over to look at the device. She grinned, which annoyed the Cathar even more. "Aric Jorgan, are you _still_ jealous of Agent Jonas Balkar?" She switched the datapad off, then wrapped her arms around him from behind.

"I'm not jealous," Jorgan answered. "The man's a degenerate, but that's not it." Fynta moved around in front to look into his eyes. She raised a questioning brow, and Jorgan sighed. "You're being targeted again. This time, we don't know who. I need your word that you'll be careful, Fynta."

Arms tightened around the Cathar's waist, pulling him closer. "I will, riduur." Fynta leaned back and snatched her holo off the desk. "I'm not about to put it on the squad, though. As you said, _I'm_ the target this time. That means it's personal, and I want to keep it that way." Her lips pressed into a tight line. "I don't want the rest of you ending up with bounties on your heads again."

"So, what's your plan?" Jorgan asked. Keeping the rest of the squad out of it was fine, but his fate was connected to Fynta's. The holo beeped, indicating an outgoing call, and she returned it to the desk.

"Fyn'ika? Everything alright?" Verin answered. He'd been more attentive since her injury, answering her calls more often than not. The Cathar still wasn't sure how he felt about either of the hunters, but they hadn't threatened to nail his hide to their wall, so he supposed things were fine on that front.

Fynta plopped ungracefully into the chair to put herself even with the image of her brother. "I could use your help, vod. Someone tried to assassinate me today, professional grade ammo that hits like a shabbing rancor. Yuun says it's Imperial."

"You want to know if you're back on the list," Verin guessed. "Hold on, Cin's already checking." They waited in silence while Fynta toyed with her necklace. Jorgan regretted his earlier malice, placing his hand on hers to still the nervous habit.

Verin reappeared on the holo and shook his head. "I'm not seeing anything. It's either a private contract, or a vendetta. Want us to sniff around?"

"If you don't mind, but not too much. I don't want you getting yourself killed because you're a klutz. Cinlat won't always be there to pull your shebs out of harm's way," Fynta teased.

Verin made a hand gesture that pulled a snort of laughter from the major. While Jorgan didn't recognize it, he didn't need to in order to grasp its meaning. The holo switched off without farewells, a strange custom everyone in Fynta's small family clung to, and she sighed. "Well, we'll just have to wait and see what happens. If anyone can track down my secret admirer, it's those two."

Jorgan grabbed Fynta's hands and pulled her back to her feet. She leaned against him, inhaling deeply when he wrapped his arms around her. "Wear your helmet from now on," he asked softly, resting his chin on top of her head. "For me."

Fynta let loose with a humorless laugh. "I'll become a prisoner in my own armor." Jorgan winced at the disdain in her voice. Then, it softened. "But, I'll do it for you, riduur. For now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rishi is finally next! I love Rishi. :D


	42. Welcome to Rishi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't be more excited to be here. Rishi is by far my favorite set of planet missions. So much so, that we'll be here for a while. The atmosphere, the people, and the energy of this planet always pulled me in the same way as Nar Shaddaa. So, I hope you enjoy these chapters as much as I did. Thank you all for reading and commenting.

**Three months after the events of Rakata Prime**  
**Orbit around Coruscant  
** **The Thunderclap**

_Look who's the new superstars of the holonews? Yeah, I might name drop from time to time._

_**BEGIN FORWARDED TEXT  
** _ _Republic Victory on Altair 9!_

_After a grueling ten-month siege, Klemark, the Capital City of Altair 9, has been freed from Imperial control. All enemy forces were captured or killed._

_General Vander, commander of the Republic Liberation Force, credited the sudden advance to the work of a Special Forces unit that infiltrated Klemark and disabled the Imperial defensive network. With additional landing areas now available, supplementary support craft are en route to provide food and other aid to the long-suffering people of Altair 9._

_Vander spoke to a small collection of embedded journalists in the hours following his troops' victory, saying,_ "Truly, this is a stunning victory that all Republic citizens can feel proud of!"  
_**END FORWARDED TEXT**_

_Now how about that. Stay safe out there, beautiful._

_Jonas_

Fynta smiled at the datapad. Balkar never missed an opportunity to congratulate her on whatever he could find. She didn't think it was that he liked her that much, but that he liked reminding her that she had no secrets from him. It was an SIS thing. So long as Balkar didn't intend to cause Havoc any trouble, she was perfectly happy to string him along.

The major heard the airlock seal and turned the device off before calling into the main room. "How'd it go?"

Dorne appeared in the doorway, her expression blank. "Sir, there is a situation."

Fynta hung her head. They'd just gone down to the planet to get a few supplies, what could have possibly gone wrong? She pushed up from her chair to follow Dorne through the ship; at least they bypassed the medbay.

Dorne walked a brisk pace, fast enough that Fynta had to jog to catch up. She didn't have the chance to notice everyone hiding in the briefing room until she was ambushed.

"SURPRISE!"

Fynta ducked on instinct and swung at the nearest target, which happened to be Cormac. All the air left his lungs in a puff when her fist connected with his gut. Vik roared with laughter and slapped her on the back. "And that," he croaked, gesturing towards Cormac, "is the only reason I agreed to this kriffing party." The Weequay thumped her on the back again and swaggered through the door, leaving Fynta completely confused.

The major straightened and eyed the remaining soldiers suspiciously, ignoring Cormac's sputtering. "What's going on?"

Elara beamed, also ignoring her husband's apparent discomfort. "We missed your birthday between the Rakata Prime and the Altair 9 missions." She gestured to the cake Fynta hadn't noticed. "So, we thought we'd make it up to you."

Jorgan chuckled. " _Dorne_ thought we should make it up to you. My only part in this was to advise waiting until you weren't armed."

"I'd have shot Vik first," Fynta responded with a smirk, patting Cormac on the shoulder.

The big man offered an unconvinced snort, then eyed the cake. "You can make it up to me, I get first slice." He rubbed his stomach, but the grin plastered on his face made his annoyed tone less convincing.

Elara tisked and threw her hands up. "Absolutely not. We will do his properly, Balic." The finality with which she spoke brokered no more argument, and Fynta made a mental note to be more vigilant around her birthday. Which reminded her.

"My birthday came before the Rakata mission."

The medic raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips, as if the major had once again said the dumbest thing possible. "No, that is when the military believed you turned thirty-one. You're actual birthday was two months later."

Fynta's mouth fell open, and she planned to argue, until a surge of guilt at the look of betrayal on Jorgan's face stilled her tongue. She'd never told anyone that she'd fudged the dates to get into the army sooner. An oversight that she should have warned him about a long time ago. Putting her thoughts in order, Fynta forced her attention back on the medic. "How did you—"

"Your brother is quite charming, is he not?" Elara interrupted, keeping her attention on cutting pieces off the cake. When the medic turned, she wore a smile again. "Here you are, sir. First piece."

Cormac guffawed, clearly satisfied enough with Fynta's shock to ignore Dorne's cake jab. "That's my woman. No one can outsmart her." The big man took the next plate and held it aloft like a toast. "How's that go again? Haili cetare! Fill your boots!"

Fynta shook herself, offering a thank you to Dorne, and an apologetic look to Jorgan. She dug into the desert, finding that it was some sort of fluffy pastry instead of the favored uj'alayi, but Fynta wasn't about to turn down a free dessert.

Everyone ate and drank too much alcohol, wine Vik had smuggled aboard against Jorgan's expressed orders. It wasn't until things started winding down, and the embarrassing war stories wrapped up, that Jorgan tapped Fynta's knee and nodded towards their room.

No one noticed the commanders' departure, or if they did, neglected to comment on it. Fynta shut the door to their quarters and flopped onto the bed. "You're sure you didn't have anything to do with that?" She asked, closing her eyes and wishing she hadn't eaten so much.

"Dorne put the whole thing together, though I imagine the bit about it being a surprise was probably Cormac's idea," Aric replied.

Fynta opened her eyes when the mattress shifted next to her. Jorgan leaned over her, eyes soft and a slightly embarrassed smile on his face. It mirrored the expression he'd worn when he gave her the necklace. "This was all me, though."

Fynta sat up to receive a large box with a letter attached to the top. The last time Aric had gotten her a gift, it had been a new vibroblade. This looked substantially larger. She spared her husband a glance as she unfolded the piece of flimsiplast to find a handwritten message.

_Been awhile since I got my girl something nice; thought you might like this._

_You're really one of a kind. I never thought happy would be a word I'd use for myself, but you really make me happy._

_Just do me a favor and don't tell anyone I've gone soft, all right?_

_Love you_

The last words struck Fynta, making her chest clench pleasantly. She knew he loved her, but seeing the words on paper was surreal.

Fynta glanced up at the big Cathar and smiled. "You're secret's safe with me, riduur." Folding the flimsy again, she placed it in her thigh pocket. Whatever was in the box, she would treasure the hand written note more.

"Go ahead and open it," Jorgan urged. His voice held a sort of quiet excitement.

Fynta broke the seals and gasped at the contents. "Is that?"

Jorgan lifted the blaster out and presented it for Fynta's inspection. "Verpine blaster," he grinned, showing a mouth full of sharp teeth. "I thought you'd enjoy the irony."

Fynta took it from his hands gingerly. She'd nearly been killed by a Verpine last year, and had wanted one ever since. "Modified, of course, to make it legal," Aric continued, and she smirked.

"Of course it is."

Fynta brought the weapon closer for inspection when she recognized the wooden stock. "This is what you've been working on in the conference room, isn't it?" She thought back to the pieces Jorgan always had scattered on that towel on the oversized table when they had down time. His grin grew, and Fynta chucked his shoulder playfully. "That's impressive! Have you fired it?"

"Just to make sure it wouldn't explode in your hands. I was thinking that maybe we could visit the range before we break orbit," Aric suggested with a hopeful gleam in his eyes. The Cathar practically beamed with pride.

Fynta replaced the blaster, then dropped the box on the floor at the end of the bed. She tackled her husband to the mattress, kissing him roughly. "First, I need to show you how grateful I am."

 **Rishi  
** **Raider's Cove**

Zolah stood alone in the middle of the pirate town, reeling from the news Keeper had just dropped on her. Vector was on Dromund Kaas, brokering an amendment to the Killik alliance with the Empire. Kaliyo had taken on another contract to track down, and Raina had tagged along at Zolah's suggestion. Neither had been thrilled about the prospect, but they'd eventually agreed. Dr. Lokin was busy with his tasks as the new director of Project Protean, and spent most of his time off the ship. Even SCORPIO had found a reason to take leave of the agent.

Back during the debacle with the Castellan Restraints, Zolah had released the AI from her indentured service in the hope that she would kill one of Kothe's lackeys. Unfortunately, SCORPIO had found the agent's sudden change of heart intriguing and had decided to hang around to see what would happen. Now, the droid was free to further evolve her programming whenever she wanted, and often disappeared for weeks at a time.

Zolah had been alone when she got the summons to Rishi. She'd naturally assumed that the heavily encrypted message would be from Lana or Theron. It had been a shock to be approached by Keeper instead.

Shara Jenn, the woman that Zolah had always known as Watcher Two, had been captured. Through the many years that she'd known the woman, Zolah had come to suspect that _Watcher Two_ might actually be on the girl's birth certificate. Shara was genetically engineered for amazing intellect, with a brain that worked better than most supercomputers. Due to the trauma caused to her highly advanced mind during the Star Cabal's dissolution, and the chaos following Darth Malgus's failed uprising, Zolah's old ally had been defenseless when the Republic found her.

Watcher . . . _no, Shara,_ had been frozen in carbonite, then stored on a prison ship seized by pirates. That was how Zolah Holran found herself on the pirate planet, slogging through thug infested docks and gathering information that could be used to blackmail the raiders into turning over their prize.

"Uploading files now," Zolah relayed softly, activating her comm implant to avoid being too obvious while she hacked into the pirate's network.

"You've also had financial difficulties, I see." Keeper had managed to get a meeting with the leader of the gang, planning to blackmail him for Shara's freedom. "You've racked up quite a debt to some Trandoshan pirates. Does your crew know you've been gambling?"

Another male voice growled over Zolah's former handler's open comm. "Maybe I make sure you don't tell." The voice was guttural, thickly accented. The agent paused before heading towards the next terminal, knowing that if Keeper left his line open, it was for a reason.

"Or, maybe I'll do you a favor," the older man responded without his standard Imperial accent. "By the time we're finished here, your creditors will be gone." Zolah understood her new objective. She needed to take out the Trandoshans before Keeper finished his meeting.

It took two hours to complete the task, but at last Zolah rushed back to the safehouse. She'd waited in anticipation of seeing one of the few friendly faces from this business, ensuring that no one followed. Only to be forced to bite back her agitation as she stared at the woman she'd always known as Watcher Two via holo.

Keeper had hurried Shara off world before Zolah made it back, claiming that the timetable had been cut in half. She was forced to undergo this reunion over a long distance link, and that space grew with every pacing second. Shara had been the first to see Zolah as more than an asset, followed closely by Keeper. They ranked highly on Zolah's short list of people she could trust. Even while Shara remained businesslike, there'd always been a tone of flirtiness beneath, finally culminating into a night of passion after the launch of the Eradicators. Their shared guilt over the thousands of lives lost had driven them together, binding the two women in a unique way.

That memory would be all Zolah had soon. Keeper had sent Shara off world to a private medical facility. It was the right call. After all, Shara had been less than fit at their last meeting, requiring the constant attention of a medical droid and getting her words garbled when she spoke. Now, the woman looked far too thin, and her skin had taken on a palled hue.

"I don't want to do this, Cipher," Shara continued. She wore simple clothes, but at least they'd done away with the prison uniform. "I don't want them to decondition me."

According to Keeper, Shara's mind had been programmed for absolute obedience to the Empire. Forcing her to run a covert mission against her masters while they battled the Star Cabal had caused significant damage after the holotrap that had left her unresponsive for weeks. Keeper planned to remove that conditioning, to give the girl a chance at a normal life.

Zolah glanced over her shoulder, ensuring that their former boss was out of earshot. "You're not a prisoner," the Chiss continued, pulling her attention back to her old ally. "Say the word, and I'll talk to the minister." She paused, firming her tone. "Or, I'll come for you myself."

Shara offered a weak smile. "I'll hold you to that, Cipher." She sighed, looking at her surroundings. "What if I don't recognize myself when they finish?"

"You're the smartest person I've ever met, and you're good at solving mysteries," Zolah responded with forced mirth. "I have every confidence that you'll figure it out." It was a kind lie. In all likelihood, this procedure would alter Shara so much that she no longer remembered her time with Imperial Intelligence. While Keeper thought that was a good thing, Zolah was less enthused. She didn't want to be forgotten.

"Maybe, but I hate mysteries." Shara brought warm eyes to rest on Zolah again. "I'm glad you're here, Cipher. Stay and talk, just for a little while. Please?"

"I'll stay for as long as you need me," Zolah replied. She'd tear that ship apart, all Shara had to do was say the word.

The sun hung low in the sky when the Chiss exited the cantina. Shara's time on the holo ran out far too soon, and she'd never requested the cipher's rescue. Zolah hadn't realized how much she missed the woman's steadfastness until seeing her again. It hurt to think that it was the last time. Suddenly, Zolah desperately wanted to hear Vector's voice, to apologize for her frostiness since the botched assassination attempt on Manaan. They lingered in an uneasy truce for months, and seeing Watcher Two again reminded her of how fleeting life could be. Far too short for petty squabbles between lovers.

Glancing at her wrist chrono, Zolah sighed. It was the middle of the night on Alderaan; there was no need to wake her husband now. She would return to the ship before morning. The Red Blade felt overwhelmingly silent while traveling alone, and the chaos outside soothed her nerves.

As the Chiss meandered the maze of boardwalks, she considered Keeper's words. He'd always clung to veiled hints when signaling danger, never saying anything that could be linked back to him. However, this time, the old man had blatantly warned her away from Darth Marr's offer of unofficial employment. Keeper wanted her to disappear for good, to live her life before it was wasted, like his had been. His honesty had put Zolah off balance, and he'd vanished before she could formulate a response. Now, she was alone again.

Zolah had just crossed into an open marketplace when she felt the cold press of metal against the side of her neck. A hand closed around her upper arm and jerked her backwards into an alleyway. By the time the shadows closed around her, Zolah knew exactly how she would incapacitate her assailant and sighed at the fact that she wouldn't even need to hide the body. The sheer lack of effort she would need to put into this kill disappointed the agent; a good cover up would take her mind off of the circumstances surrounding Keeper and Watcher Two.

The man shoved Zolah against the wall, and his grip loosened on her arm as the weapon lowered. She could feel his breath against her ear when he leaned forward, and tensed her body in preparation for her attack. "Now, before you try to kill me, hear me out."

Zolah was more than a little surprised to recognize the voice, and cast a glance over her shoulder to find none other than Theron Shan pressed against her. "Agent Shan," she began, pleased that her tone was cool enough to hide her confusion. "If I'd known you were into roleplaying, I'd have been more forceful on Rakata Prime."

The weight lifted from Zolah's back as Theron gave her room to turn. "Glad to know that the offer is still open," he snorted, holstering his blaster. "I knew Lana had someone here, but it took a lot of digging to figure out who. She won't be happy." It was adorable how pleased that prospect made him.

"No, I imagine not," Zolah replied, dusting off her jacket as she turned to meet the SIS agent's gaze. Keeper had called her here, not Lana. Granted, the Cipher didn't plan to reveal that little bit of information. The Force worked in strange ways, and Zolah didn't claim to understand any of it.

Forcing a pleasant smile, Zolah continued. "So, you've found me. What next?"

"I've got a few ideas." Theron's voice heated a little, and Zolah wondered if she might get a chance to peek into that brilliant mind of his after all. "But first, we need your help."

 **Rishi**  
**Northeastern Docks**

Fynta and Jorgan stared blankly at the giant, bi-pedal, woodland bird stuttering nervously before them. "Nothing but fellow pirates here, you and your crew don't have to kill, or maim, or eat anyone! Right?"

Jorgan's mouth fell open in shock, and he snapped it shut with a click of teeth. Qaraah, as the creature had introduced himself, winced, taking half a step back. Fynta responded with raised eyebrow. "Kill or—what?"

Movement caught Jorgan's attention. A skinny kid snuck up behind a couple of smugglers, snatched whatever was on top of a crate, and ran in the opposite direction. The smuggler took off after him, yelling profanities. Neither Fynta nor the Rishi native appeared concerned. "It's what you do, everyone knows! And it's no big deal!" Qaraah squawked in a blatant attempt to placate Fynta. "I'm sure those people your crew ate on Taloraan had it coming." He glanced nervously at Jorgan. Of course, they would assume the Cathar was the main culprit. "We're all friends here, right? No need for any massacres or cannibalism!"

Fynta's eyebrows shot up in realization of something Jorgan hadn't latched onto yet. "You don't have to hide," Qaraah continued. "Everyone's heard of the Red Hulls. And no one is disgusted or terrified! Not at all!"

"Right," Fynta replied, then motioned for Jorgan to get moving. He complied readily, and the two commandos left the native behind. He continued to wave at them, clearly pleased at having survived the encounter.

"So, boss," Cormac cut in, barely containing his laughter. "If you find anyone tasty, bring me back a leg." There was muffled laughter in the background before he returned. "Vik says he wants a breast."

"Ha ha," Jorgan snapped, frowning at his wrist comm. "Keep the line clear."

Fynta chuckled, looking out over the beach to cover her amusement as they walked the edge of the makeshift village. "Of all the things they could have come up with." She shook her head, though the pull at the corner of her mouth displeased Jorgan greatly.

The Cathar had yet to find anything funny about their situation and was more convinced than ever that Theron Shan was behind it. "They really want our attention," he commented. Jorgan would be more than happy to give it to Shan when they found him, with his fist. He still owed the SIS agent for that stunt he'd pulled on Manaan.

Heaving a sigh, Jorgan regretted it immediately. The air smelled of stale ale, rotten vegetation, and unwashed bodies. It was everything expected of a backwater dive for criminals. Jorgan snorted at a faded sign stretched across an alleyway. "Raider's Cove. Name like that tells you something. The locals don't even bother to pretend they're not scum."

"If they are hiding," Fynta continued, ignoring his remark on their surroundings. "What purpose could they have for making us so obvious?"

Jorgan glanced at his wife. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, a sign that their current circumstances irritated her. "Think it could be a trap?" He asked, pulling her to a stop on the side of the road. If they were walking into an ambush, he wanted to have a plan.

"It crossed my mind," Fynta admitted. "But, it's more elaborate than the kind of enemy we usually face. This reeks of SIS." She'd said it. The same thought they'd shared silently back aboard the Thunderclap when Aric realized just what kind of skill set a person would need to hack into his personal, and more importantly, unlisted inbox. It was a whole new reason to hate Theron Shan; some of those messages were from Fynta, and extremely private.

After asking around, the two soldiers found someone who claimed to know about the Red Hulls in a dingy little cantina. Fynta squared up with the Rodian as if she'd been born to the role. "Who told you about me?"

"Everyone's heard of you," Gorro shot back. "And once I've killed you, everyone will hear about me too."

"You think you've got what it takes?" Fynta asked, casting a casual glance at Jorgan. He knew what she wanted, and he knew also he was going to regret playing along. Swallowing his pride, the Cathar pulled his lips back in a snarl that bared his teeth the way a savage cannibal should.

Gorro took the bait, but Fynta was faster on the draw. Her new Verpine cracked, filling the room with the telltale ozone smell. If anything sealed the deal that they were pirates, it would be the fact that Gorro lay on the floor with a massive burn wound through his chest from a seemingly illegal weapon.

The room cleared, its patrons slinking out systematically, instead of the frantic chaos of civilians. These people were so used to violence that Jorgan was surprised no one stopped to loot the corpse.

The Barkeep, a weathered woman in her fifties, threw her hands up as she stomped from behind the bar. "This is the worst mess yet!" She glared at the oozing corpse before snapping her eyes up to Fynta. "You . . . uh . . . you're not going to eat him, are you? That's the last thing I need people hearing about my place." Jorgan remained dumbfounded that everyone they'd talked to had done so casually. Qaraah had been right, no one really cared so long as it didn't hurt their bottom line.

Fynta shook her head and tossed the woman a credit chip. "The Red Hulls only eat people during raids. That's our code." It took every ounce of skill Jorgan contained not to stare at his wife. The barkeep, on the other hand, pocketed the creds while Fynta holstered her Verpine. "Look, I just came for information. I need to know who's been running their mouth about me and my crew."

"Kai Zykken," the woman answered without hesitation. "That's where you'll find your answers."

**Outskirts of Raider's Cove**

"Hey, boss. Did the cap look as terrifying as he sounded?" Cormac asked over the comms. It had been decided that the rest of Havoc should remain on the ship to avoid parking a military vessel in front of a bunch of thieves. The Thunderclap would stay in orbit until the commanders figured out what was going on.

Fynta assumed Cormac meant back in the cantina when Jorgan gave a breathtaking display of teeth. The major made it her new goal to see if she had enough skill to make him growl like that again. "Extremely," she answered, sparing a look up at the Cathar.

"Shab, hate that I missed it," Cormac responded with a chuckle. "Even Elara was impressed."

Aric interrupted, his lips twitching into a half smile. "Just remember that your captain passes for a cannibal the next time any of you consider disobeying an order." There were snorts of laughter on the other end of the comms.

Fynta hated to cut in on the reverie, but she and Jorgan had a job to do. "Let's keep the comms clear for a while," she suggested, stopping to lean against the wall. Jorgan instinctively stood in front of her, blocking the major from view while she spoke into the commlink on her wrist. "I'm switching to receive only. You can monitor our movement through the armor cams, and I'll reactivate the comm if I think there is something everyone needs to hear." Jorgan spared her a glance, brow raised, before scanning the crowd again. "Yuun, monitor local traffic and let me know if anything looks suspicious. Dorne, you've got the ship until we return."

"Understood, sir," Elara answered, no doubt wrestling the comm from the two large children aboard her ship.

It took most of the afternoon, but the two soldiers finally managed to wrangle, threaten, or bribe enough outlaws and scoundrels to pinpoint Zykken's hideout. He'd been an idiot, as promised, and Fynta was forced to resort to threatening monkey-lizards for the datapad containing the information on who originally announced the Red Hulls arrival.

The best part of the whole ordeal was the way Zykken's face lost all color when Jorgan commented that he looked chewy. At last, however, they'd found their prize. Or, at least, Jorgan had found someone who sounded like she fit the bill.

"I've had enough of your snooping around Corsair territory! You're going down! Oof—"

Jorgan had the woman restrained, face down on the table, with her arm bent awkwardly behind her back. Fynta heard him grunt when the prisoner aimed a kick at his knee. "Ma'am, if you keep this up, you're going to end up hurting yourself, because I'm not letting go."

Fynta knelt down even with the woman's face, and it paled as soon as their eyes met. Obviously, she hadn't planned on meeting the head cannibal lady herself. "Datapad?"

"Got it, sir." Jorgan nodded towards the table on the other side of his prisoner.

Fynta stood, reached over the woman's back to grab the device, then squatted again. "You going to keep causing me trouble?"

"N—no." The thief tried to shake her head, but only succeeded in bashing her cheek against the table as she continued to stammer. "No—I'll keep my mouth shut." Fynta nodded at Jorgan to release her. He stepped out of the way, pulling his hands back quickly to avoid any more kicks. The woman straightened, grabbed her pet, and took off at full speed down the dock.

Fynta looked up at the darkening sky and sighed. "Let's find a place to crash for the night and see what we can pull from this thing." Jorgan nodded, waving for Fynta to lead the way. She watched him out of her peripheral when she realized he was staying behind her. Aric had a slight limp in his step; that damn woman must have hit his bad knee. The crush injury from Belsavis had never fully healed, and he'd been too stubborn to slow down long enough for surgery. This was a bad time for it to act up, so the first thing on Fynta's list would have to be getting Jorgan off his feet.

"Come on," the major said, thumping his chest plate with her knuckles. "Let's play spy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uj'alayi [oo-jah-LIE-ee] uj cake - dense, very sweet flat cake made of ground nuts, syrup, pureed dried fruit and spice


	43. The Red Hulls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being on the short side, but it was one of those "make it short, or ungodly long" choices, and I chose to be nice to my beta by leaning towards the "short" option. That, and the edit plagued me for some reason.

**The Royal's Concubine Inn**

The Havoc commanders chose the least pest riddled motel on the block. Jorgan sat on the bed, removing his leg plates in order to examine his knee. The blasted thing was throbbing again. That woman had managed to hit just the right spot to aggravate the old injury.

The door opened, and Jorgan grabbed his blaster, taking aim at the intruder. Fynta stepped in, preoccupied with the encryption program trying to slice into the datapad they'd snagged from the monkey-lizard. The major never looked up, and Jorgan replayed the events that had brought him to this point in his life. He had married a Mandalorian, ingratiate himself with her Mando family, and spent the day pretending to be a cannibal chasing vermin across the docks of a Pirate planet. He sighed when he realized how commonplace instances like these had become.

A brown paper bag swung from Fynta's other hand and smelled suspiciously like real food, making Jorgan forget the pain for the moment. "I think I've almost got it," she muttered, shutting the door with her hip. Setting the bag onto to rickety desk, Fynta dropped a cold pack into his lap. Jorgan promised to thank her properly when they found some time to settle down.

The captain rested the ice on his knee, sighing with relief, and started digging through the food. Fynta had managed to score a few sandwiches and some vegetable that he'd never seen. It was the deep fried meat that really got his mouth watering though. He may not want to know what particular animal it was, but it smelled excellent.

Fynta sprang to her feet, "Got it!" The sound scared the hell out of Jorgan, a fact his wife completely ignored as she knelt in front of him. "Hand, please." She'd removed her chest plate, greaves, and gloves to work more comfortably with the delicate slicing tools. The only thing he'd taken off was the one leg plate. He held out the hand with the embedded holo receiver, palm up, while she plugged in.

The image of a woman, her face concealed by a cowl, appeared alongside Kai Zykken, the bumbling idiot who somehow ran a successful pirate gang. "The Red Hulls may be the galaxy's most bloodthirsty and sadistic pirate crew," she cautioned. "And, they're headed towards Rishi." The contact's voice had clearly been altered by a device, but Jorgan turned his ear closer to see if he could hear anything familiar. "I'm sure you remember the debt that you owe the Red Hulls. Quite a few credits . . . not something they're likely to forget." Zykken's complexion paled further, even through the muted blue of the holo.

"My droids are spreading word of their arrival," the woman continued. Jorgan picked out the slightest hint of an accent. One that he was willing to bet his pension belonged to an Imperial. "If you were to do the same, they might be too distracted to come after you." Fynta leaned forward to study the woman, putting her face close enough to his to be distracting. "The choice is yours, of course." The holo cut off abruptly, leaving the two commandos staring at one another.

"Did you get all of that, Dorne?" Fynta asked, lifting her wrist closer. Jorgan pulled back and snapped his mouth shut, his comment about her closeness dying on his tongue. He hadn't realized that she'd turned the comms back on. Maybe she'd been talking with Dorne when she walked in, instead of updating him on her progress. _Blasted woman_ , he grumbled; she kept him on his toes.

"Affirmative, running facial recognition," Dorne replied, the pitch of her voice enough to inform the commanders that she was hard at work.

"I'm pretty sure I know who it is, but I'd like to be one hundred percent," Fynta replied. "Let me know when you've got something."

" _I will, sir. Is the captain alright?"_

Fynta glanced at Aric's knee, and he ran his fingers across his neck to signal his wife to play it off. Dorne would never leave him alone if she knew his injury was acting up again. In fact, last time it had, she'd threatened to sedate him and perform the surgery herself. He believed her completely.

A smile pulled at Fynta's lips, and she rubbed the top of his head vigorously. "Nothing he can't handle. Wolfe out."

Jorgan sighed in relief, then made a grab for one of the sandwiches. Fynta snatched his hand back, putting herself even with the holo again. "Hold on. I need to see something." She replayed the message, using the controls on the datapad to fast forward to the part about the substantial sum of credits owed. "There," she paused and pointed. "Did you see it?"

Jorgan lifted his palm with the small images closer to his face as she hit play. "Huh." He couldn't believe he'd missed it before. "The lucky schmuck doesn't owe anyone anything."

Fynta sat back on her heels with a satisfied smile. She played the recording three more times, watching the woman wave her hand in front of Zykken's face while encouraging him to remember how deeply indebted to the Red Hulls he was.

The comm chirped, and Fynta scooped it up without taking her eyes off the image. "Sir, I have a forty-three percent facial match. I'll give you one guess as to who it is."

"Lana Beniko?" Fynta ventured.

" _Yes, sir, I'm certain of it."_

"Good work. Get some rest, Dorne. We'll track them down tomorrow and see what's going on." Fynta disconnected the call,then lifted herself high enough to flop back onto the bed. She stared at nothing until Jorgan waved a sandwich in front of her face. "So, what's the plan?"

The major took a bite and chewed in thought, free hand propped behind her head. "Lana wanted us to know she has droids spreading the word. Let's start there." Jorgan looked back at his knee, not looking forward to trekking through this trash infested dump in the dark. Fynta smirked, knocking his thigh with hers. "First thing in the morning."

Jorgan didn't try to hide his relief. The two ate in silence until he decided he'd finished mulling it all over. "This is quite the elaborate plan."

"Yeah. The whole thing smacks of Theron. I'm guessing this location is Jakarro's doing." Fynta finished her sandwich and sat up to toss the paper in the trash bin.

Jorgan watched her flop back onto the bed. He knew that look: the firmly set jaw, hard eyes, and nervous energy. "You're considering going out tonight, aren't you?"

"Considering it. Yes," Fynta admitted. "Acting on it, no. We don't have a clear enough picture of this place to take on that kind of mission in the dark. There are too many ways to get lost and end up dead." She sighed and firmed her tone. "We'll start in the morning."

Jorgan leaned on his side and smiled. He knew exactly how to settle her, and it had been a while since they'd been truly alone. Fynta's eyes slid towards him even as she returned his smile. "What?"

"Are we dark?" Aric asked, fiddling with the catch on her leg plate. Fynta rested a hand on his chest plate, then dropped it down to the clasps that connected the chest piece to the legs. Jorgan took that as a _yes_ , and his heart rate climbed considerably higher. "We should get this armor off before Elara calls."

A few hours later Jorgan dreamt of a firefight in a cantina. Then, he realized the blaster fire was real, and the music was coming from the restaurant across the street. Fynta stood at the window with her arms crossed, looking bored, while she watched the ruckus outside. She'd put some of her armor back on, and Jorgan realized that she was standing guard while he slept. The light from streetlights played across her face, illuminating her visible eye and the tattoo surrounding it.

These were the unguarded moments when his wife dropped her smiling facade, and Aric saw the turmoil within. He knew her inner demons well, the things she'd once hidden from him, and loved her all the more for them. Making a show of waking up, Jorgan propped on one elbow and ran a hand over his head. "What's going on?"

"Gang war by the looks of it." Fynta glanced at his knee, unfazed by the battle in the street, and grinned. "Feeling better?" He saw the slight glint of concern in her eyes; the worry that she'd made it worse.

Jorgan rolled from the bed, ignoring her amused smirk when his knees and back cracked like an old man's. He joined her at the window, but placed a kiss on her hair instead of looking outside. "Much better." He braced his forearm against the window sill and propped his chin on top of her head. "Did you sleep?"

"A little." Fynta closed the curtain and turned to face him. "I hope you're not lying to me, soldier, because the sun's almost up." She popped up on her toes to give him a quick kiss, then patted his stomach. "Let's get something to eat and move out." Jorgan stepped back to let Fynta pass. She wore her Major Wolfe mask now, which meant that they wouldn't stop again until they'd tracked Theron and Lana down.

**Old World Sector**

The coordinates stopped at a hole in the wall building in the back of a rundown alley. Fynta and Jorgan had been on the hunt most of the day. She no longer cared what security measures Theron had in place because she was tired of trekking all over Raider's Cove in heavy armor and equally heavy humidity. They followed a long, filthy hallway that opened up into a spotless op room filled with shiny new computer terminals. Fynta reactivated her comms and flashed the ship so her squad knew to pay attention.

"Hey there," Theron called over his shoulder without surprise. Lana stood off to the side, deep in conversation with a tall, thin Chiss female. The Sith glanced up and nodded, before returning her attention to the cipher agent.

"Hey yourself," Fynta responded, more out of habit than the desire to be flirty. Jorgan gave her a warning glance, a subtle reminder of what happened the last time she let her guard down around Theron. If not for the attempt on her life, Fynta was fairly certain Aric would have gone back for the man.

Jorgan split off to make a slow circuit around the room, his sniper's eyes taking every detail while acquainting himself with the layout. "So, you are the ones behind all this," he grumbled from the far wall. Trusting that her XO knew what he was doing, Fynta focused on exit points and personnel. Only one way in or out, something she wasn't pleased with and planned on letting Theron know. There were a few empty food containers scattered around the room, too few to indicate that a larger party had stayed here. The major sighed; they really were on their own.

Theron smiled when he looked up from his console. "I thought you played the part pretty well, Captain."

Lana stepped forward, and Fynta saw Aric swallow his growl. "The Revanites have gone to increasingly severe lengths to hunt us down since we destroyed their operations on Rakata Prime." She watched Jorgan with interest. Fynta wondered what went on in a Sith's mind. She'd noticed that Lana paid particular attention to Cormac as well, but ignored Yuun and Vik completely.

"We had to get you here to help us without leaving a trail," Theron added with a grin. "Sorry, we couldn't be more . . . direct." Fynta resisted the urge to slap that shabla smirk off his face.

"Right, because cannibalistic pirates are a much more discreet way to go. So, what have you found?" That's when it occurred to Fynta why the name sounded familiar earlier. When the walking bird thing had greeted them at the docks, she'd had the vaguest sense of deja vu. "Ah, shab."

Jorgan finished his recon, veering away from the Sith and Chiss to join the huddle with a quizzical look. Fynta rubbed a hand down her face. "The Red Hulls, Theron, you ade'al dalab."

"Careful, you know who my mom is," the SIS agent snarked. "But yeah, I figured you'd enjoy the irony."

Fynta glared at Theron, before turning her attention towards her XO. "It's from the first op Theron and I worked together. A sort of _graduation day_." Jorgan's scowl deepened. She could practically see his mind working, and cringed at the knowledge that he'd finally broken down and read her file. She wanted to ask his opinion, but knew she never would. That life was behind her. Clearing her head, the major leveled Theron with a glare. "You're wanting to play a little misdirection, aren't you?'

"I knew you'd figure it out." Fynta had picked the name off the top of her head years ago in order to keep the entire Black Sun gang from coming after them when they made off with their newest Spice cutter. "We need to go after the pirates that run things on Rishi, the Nova Blades," Theron continued. Fynta watched Zolah while she tapped away on her datapad. The Chiss had yet to speak, which meant she had to be listening. Fynta barely trusted Theron; the cipher unnerved her completely. "They butcher entire starship crews and enslave anyone on Rishi who stands up to them. And, now we've learned that they're working with the Revanites."

Fynta pulled her attention back to Lana, keeping Agent Holran in her peripheral. The Sith looked different in the simple, green shirt and slacks seen everywhere on Rishi. The only thing that gave her away were the striking, golden eyes and the lightsaber on her hip. "The Nova Blades are being sent to attack trade lanes in specific areas." Lana picked up the conversation effortlessly. "They've gradually remapped quite a bit of stellar traffic. It's all very strange."

"Using pirates instead of their own troops keep their goals obscured," Jorgan added. He'd crossed his arms, standing closer to Fynta than an XO typically should. Though, she wasn't sure if it was a territorial thing, or so that he could grab her if the meeting went south. Aric was still convinced that Lana was behind the assassination attempt on Manaan. Any proper Mandalorian woman would have been offended by this need to protect her, but Fynta had learned early on that it was hardwired into Aric's personality. He needed to protect everyone.

"Exactly," Lana nodded politely. "Theron says that you have experience with this, Major Wolfe?"

Fynta propped her hip against the holotable, putting some distance between her and Jorgan without being too obvious. "You could say that. You need the Red Hulls to make life uncomfortable for the Nova Blades." Considering who she had aboard her ship, three of the six of them already having dealt with gangs in the past, Fynta felt confident about their success projection. Even without a criminal background, the others could make life damn near impossible for anyone if they set their minds to it.

"You could start by taking out a few supply caches hidden nearby. Once the Red Hulls have destroyed it, word should spread quickly," Lana added. "We have some . . . mutual friends who are excited to help with the task."

Fynta took a stab in the dark, "Jakarro and Ceetoo Deefour?"

Lana's smile widened, though not by much. "The very same."

"While you're hitting the supply cache, we'll keep spreading the word about your grudge and see if we can find any other targets," Theron added from the terminal he'd parked at. Zolah approached him quietly, leaning in to whisper something. Fynta noted the cipher's hand placement, one on Theron's shoulder, while the other held a datapad around for him to read. A natural distrust in intelligence agents had saved her life more than once, and Fynta made a silent note to keep an eye on this one in particular. She wouldn't intervene. Theron could be running his own angle. _Shab, two spies from opposite sides being forced together like this must be a nightmare._ She'd never been happier to be out of the game.

"Just be sure you don't make things too colorful. People think we are bad enough as it is," Fynta grumbled, pulling both agents' attention back to her.

"So I've heard." Theron smiled at Jorgan this time, and Fynta was sure she felt him growl, even if she didn't hear it. "I think going after the Nova Blades should increase your popularity quite a bit."

"Just be glad you weren't assaulted in a dark alley," the Chiss woman replied. Her lips twitched when Theron snorted, and Fynta raised an eyebrow at them both. Their proximity and friendliness sealed the deal. Those two definitely had their own game in play. She'd be ready should Theron need backup, otherwise, she planned to leave him to it.

"Let me get my team down here, and we'll get started. You get to work with Yuun again, Theron." Shan perked up visibly, as did Zolah, which Fynta didn't appreciate. No doubt the cipher knew all about Gand and their unique talents. The Empire probably had a substantial file on Havoc Squad after they defeated Rakton in such a public way.

"Before you go," Lana interrupted. "I wonder if I might have a word with you." Theron shot her a warning glare, and she ignored it. Fynta had developed a soft spot for the Sith, mostly because so few people could get under Theron's skin like that. It was like a brotherhood of its own, and Lana had been granted admittance.

Fynta nodded at Jorgan, indicating for him to get everyone squared away before following Lana back down the hall. "I hoped you might be able to clear up a couple of matters for me." The Sith waved a hand over the locking mechanism to a grimy door. It clicked, then she paused just short of opening it. "We've had a few clever bounty hunters over the last few months and dealt with them accordingly. However. . . ." The door slid out of the way to reveal a well-lit interior with two cots and a table. "Something told me that I shouldn't dispatch these two. That they were important."

"Fyn'ika!"

"Fierfek." That word had moved to the top of her _most used_ vocabulary lately, and it usually centered around one person in particular.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:  
> ade'al dalab - son of a bitch (loosely translated)
> 
> Author's Note: The Black Sun mission mentioned is a part of The Art of Being Invisible series, the chapter titled: Recruitment (2). It is the second part of a two part short story about how Fynta came to work for Epoch. Other missions will be mentioned along the way given Theron and Fynta's past.


	44. A Former Revanite

**Raider's Cove  
Safe House**

"Hey Verin." Fynta dropped her head back the same way that Verin's did when he couldn't believe his luck could be so bad. Cinlat took a moment to let the situation sink in while her husband crossed the room to greet his sister. Fynta wore a dejected expression as they clasped hands. The two never hesitated to run to one another's aid, but if they stuck around too long, an argument was bound to break out.

Cinlat stood from her cot to interrupt Verin before he could say any of the things he'd planned for when their captor stopped by again. "Since when did you fall in with Sith?" Cinlat asked, positioning herself in the center of the small huddle. Fynta hated Force users of any sort, so they couldn't understand why she would be palling around with this one?

"It's complicated." Those two words had preceded most of Fynta's conversations over the last five years. "How did you find this place?"

Cinlat crossed her arms. "It's complicated." She let her crabby mood bleed through after four days of being cooped up in a small room while a Sith stalked the halls. The huntress was pushing forty-six, and her body had taken a beating over the years. A good night's sleep now consisted of her bed on the Mantis with her beskar'gam stacked neatly in one corner.

"Then you _do_ know these two?" The Sith interjected finally. "I thought you might. The male feels remarkably similar to you." Verin tensed, turning slightly to give himself more maneuverability. The action only served to amuse the Sith.

Fynta sighed, "Lana Beniko, meet my brother Verin and his wife—"

"Cinlat Ejnar," the blond cut in again. "Yes. I've followed your career in my free time. A pleasure to meet you." Verin snorted, annoyed that his name never found its way into the lists alongside hers. He often forgot that they'd done it purposefully to keep anyone from digging into his past.

Cinlat ignored him, leveling Fynta with a meaningful stare. "Another defector?"

"Not really. Like I said—complicated." The major redirected her attention to Lana and waved a hand at the two bounty hunters. "What are you planning to do with them?"

Lana interlaced her fingers and tipped her head to one side as if considering the answer. "Well, since they are your family, we have two courses of action." Cinlat braced for the threats of punishment and death. "I'll let them go as soon as we are finished here. Or, they can help us."

Cinlat felt her eyebrows lift when _I'll carve them to pieces_ wasn't one of the options. "What exactly are you up to, and does it pay?" She asked. Of course, they'd help Fynta regardless, but it wouldn't do to show any form of weakness in front of a Sith.

Lana's smile brightened, which should have been more disconcerting than it was. A smiling Sith rarely bode well for whoever it was directed towards. "We are taking down a threat to both the Republic and the Empire. Have you heard of the Order of Revan?"

Cinlat snorted, "Yeah, I'm a member."

The polite facade evaporated, replaced instantly by a glowing, red blade at Cinlat's throat. The huntress forced herself to remain still, knowing that the only thing stopping it from cleaving her head was Fynta. "Stand aside, Major." Lana spoke calmly, though malice laced her words.

"Whoa!" Fynta moved to block Lana's path completely, coming dangerously close to the energy blade. She cast a cautious glance over her shoulder before speaking again. "Cin, explain quickly."

It had all been a big joke at the time, during Cinlat's younger days when she ran with a much different crowd. Her sidekick had been nothing more than a street kid that tagged along because she had nowhere else to go. But, those memories were ones she'd shoved down a long time ago. "One of my marks was the head of the sect on Dromund Kaas roughly fifteen years ago. I had to join the merry band of historians to get close to her. They didn't seem like such a big threat."

Lana deactivated her lightsaber. "Ah. Well, that would have been unfortunate." Verin edged around to box the Sith in, ret'lini. Fynta rubbed her temples, and Cinlat forced her muscles to relax before they could cramp up.

Verin stepped closer, keeping his eyes on Lana's weapon. He clapped his sister on the shoulder, his expression hard for a change. "Maybe you should start from the beginning."

**Ops Command**

Cinlat and Verin Ejnar, the collar of the century, had been sitting in Theron's makeshift cell for almost a week. Those two had caused a lot of problems for the Republic a while back, and she'd made fools of the SIS. Theron would have liked nothing more than to put a bolt between their eyes and be done with it. Lana, however, had been adamant that she _sensed_ something in them. It ticked Theron off that she'd been right.

The SIS agent glared at the hunters while they listened to Fynta and Lana weave through the complex pattern of the Revan plot. He wondered how furious Fynta would have been if he'd killed her brother. Then, considered whether or not she would have understood. Probably a little of both. Granted, a lot of pieces of the puzzle that he'd been trying to put together for years finally fell into place. Fynta told Theron back on Korriban that there were no secrets in her squad, and he wondered if that extended to her relationship with the famed bounty hunters.

The story wrapped up with Fynta's recruitment on Rishi while the rest of Havoc trickled in with supplies. Cinlat watched curiously while Verin spoke to his sister. Theron silently groused that he'd never gotten around to learning Mando'a beyond a few insults. Mandalorians were particularly secretive about their culture, religion, and even language. The translation database was woefully inadequate, which was probably why Fynta would make sure to use it as much as possible.

Verin slapped Fynta on the back and rattled off something that sounded decidedly endearing, if not a little slanderous, and Sergeant Cormac guffawed. Theron pulled the man's file up on his datapad, looking for any connections to Mandalorians outside of Fynta. All he found was a pristine service record with the Organa military. Theron sighed in defeat when the ridiculously large man answered in kind, pulling a chuckle from Verin. Apparently, the Resol'nare was contagious. Or maybe it was Fynta.

"Let me help with that." Lana's declaration pulled Theron from his glum musing. He looked up in time to see the crate in Lieutenant Dorne's hands lift into the air. A soft gasp escaped from the medic as she stepped away. The box hovered smoothly, then settled amongst the rest in the far corner. The Weequay raised his burden expectantly, then muttered a curse when Lana turned away.

Theron noted the brief look of concern on Elara's face before her features smoothed again. "You have my appreciation, my Lor—Lana." Theron pressed his lips together to hide his smirk. The poor girl had been raised Imperial; it must be odd to stand in the presence of a Sith who wasn't threatening death for failure.

Lana smiled kindly. "Of course."

Theron returned his attention to Cinlat, who'd remained silent during most of the discussion about tactics. Her iridescent eyes followed Lana, and her entire body tensed when the Sith moved closer to Elara. Did she feel protective of the Havoc medic, and if so, why? There were countless theories to parse out, but Theron knew there wasn't enough time to find all of the answers.

"Huddle up, people. We need to discuss our game plan," Fynta called from the holo table in the middle of their room.

Jorgan stepped up next to Theron and crossed his arms. The Cathar let out a long breath, eyes darting over everyone in the room as if he were counting off a roster. Theron knew the captain didn't like him, but decided to probe for a little information anyway. "So, this must be strange for you."

The Cathar turned slowly, eyes narrowed in suspicion, then shrugged. "You get used to it after being around Fynta long enough." It confirmed that Havoc Squad not only knew about Fynta's family ties, but probably had known long before their mission on Korriban. Theron nodded as if he understood Jorgan's meaning before returning his attention back to the meeting.

"What's the plan, boss?" Cormac asked, leaning against the console next to Dorne. Theron resisted the urge to rub his eyes as his implants tried to filter the overload of information his subconscious picked up. The proximity of Cormac and Dorne, the way Cinlat positioned herself between Fynta and Lana, the ease of motion when Jorgan leaned over to ask Verin a question. There were too many cues to follow at once, and Theron shoved them all aside for later processing.

"First of all, I'm assuming all the proper introductions have been made?" Fynta looked around the room, continuing when no one spoke. "We're operating well outside of Republic jurisdiction, so if anyone wants to go back to the ship and wait this out. . . ." Theron gave the major props for giving her squad an escape route. He half expected Jorgan and Dorne to leave the room. Both of their files read like a recruitment ad, perfect soldiers. Then again, Fynta often inspired people to do stupid things. Neither made a move for the door.

Finally, Vik broke the silence. "Like the man said, what's the plan, boss?"

Fynta nodded and pulled up a map depicting the network of tunnels and alcoves beneath Raider's Cove. "We need to make this look like a rival gang moving on their turf. Welcome to the Red Hulls, everyone, the cannibalistic outlaws of the far Outer Rim. No, Vik, you cannot actually eat anyone." Cormac slapped the Weequay on the back with a chuckle.

"We are going up against the Nova Blades," Jorgan added, tapping the console to bring up pertinent information on the gang alongside the map. "Naturally, they've hidden numerous supply and weapons caches that need to be taken out to solidify our ploy."

Cinlat stepped forward, her head tipped to the side as she examined the map. "This is old intel." The huntress lifted her hand and turned the image on its side. "These alcoves were hit by the Corellian Scoundrels last year. The Blades are too lazy to rebuild."

Fynta sighed, leaning both hands on the table while she stared through the projection at her sister. "You two wouldn't happen to know this place, would you?"

"Yeah, Verin and I have been here a few times when we needed to lay low." A slight smile tugged at the corner of Cinlat's lips as she waved at Theron and Lana. "We weren't even hunting these two. We've been here since Tython. Verin stumbled across Agent Shan one day and recognized him from the wanted ad."

Theron scowled down at his datapad to hide his annoyance. He'd gotten sloppy and been spotted while on a supply run. He knew that if he looked up, Fynta would have that thrice damned smug expression on her face. They'd always been at one another's throats, yet trusted each other to pull their collective asses out of the fire. It was by far the most complex relationship he'd shared with anyone. Theron didn't even know what to call it.

"Nothing personal, we saw an opportunity," Verin added with a shrug.

Theron cleared his throat. "Yeah, sure. You wouldn't happen to have an updated map, would you?" He continued ignoring Fynta for now.

"As it happens, we do." Cinlat produced a cable from her belt and attached her datapad to the console. A few seconds later, the map shimmered, then grew to twice its original side. "As of last week," she said, disconnecting from the table.

A collective groan rose from the soldiers. It was going to be a bigger task than they had planned for. Fynta snapped her fingers to focus everyone. She scowled at the map, eyes meeting Theron's across the table. They didn't hold the accusation he expected, just the same determination he'd seen so many times before.

Theron leaned on both palms, refocusing on the image. "How did we miss all of _that_?"

"Because you're not criminals," Cinlat stated simply. "Verin and I, even a few of Havoc Squad here, can pull it off. But no one will believe either of you are outlaws." She nodded to Theron first, "You're too rigid, and the Sith is too posh. Criminals swagger."

Theron had passed for low-level gang material before, but he agreed with Cinlat. The idiots on Nar Shaddaa were a long way from the hardened criminals of Rishi. These were mercenaries, Mandalorians, and the scum of the galaxy who'd managed to evade both Imperial and Republic authorities. They'd need the real thing to infiltrate without bloodshed.

"You're best bet for getting in and out of that labyrinth alive will be Verin, Fynta, Vik, Cormac, and myself." Cinlat gave Jorgan a measuring stare before nodding. "Jorgan too. Since people already know his face." The Cathar snorted, pulling an amused grin from Fynta.

"I agree with Cinlat, sir," Elara interjected, nodding to the woman politely. "Yuun and I could not pass for pirates. We will stay here and monitor things with Agent Shan and . . . Lana." Theron almost winced at the amount of effort it took for Dorne to keep the honorific out of her words. Yuun nodded his agreement, keeping his opinion to himself. Theron honestly liked the Gand. He only spoke when he had something profound to say, but the SIS agent would bet his meager, and currently suspended, salary that he didn't miss a single detail.

"Then we have our field agents," Fynta said.

"Don't forget about Jakarro," Jorgan added, arms crossed over his chest. "I imagine they're around here somewhere."

"Jakarro and Deefour are more . . . free agents in this whole thing," Lana replied carefully. Theron found her constant optimism almost as infuriating as the Wookies incessant bellowing. "Teams aren't really their style."

Fynta nodded. "She's right. We'll leave the Wookie and droid to do their own thing so long as it doesn't interfere with our mission."

Zolah, who Theron had completely blocked out in the wake of Havoc's overwhelming presence, cleared her throat. "I have some experience posing as a pirate." Fynta raised a speculative eyebrow at Theron.

The SIS agent sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Zolah had moved around the group to stand directly behind him, no doubt using the cramped space to hide from his implants. There was nothing for it except to confirm her story and try to be more vigilant. Having a cipher agent at his back was the absolute last thing Theron needed. "It's true. Fynta, meet the Red Blade."

Zolah flashed a flirty smile at Theron, and he returned it. They'd developed a sort of song and dance filled with suggestive dialogue and blatant innuendos. It had been fun with just the two of them, however, Theron would need to tighten things up with so many people in the safe house.

"We'll split into teams of two. Cinlat and Jorgan. Verin and Cormac. Vik, you're with me. That puts one demolitions expert in each group." The major looked at Zolah through narrowed eyes. "Alright, _Blade_ , pick a team."

The Chiss showed a mouthful of white teeth. Theron knew that look, and warning alarms went off in his mind while Zolah advanced closer to Fynta. "I've heard so much about you, Major. I'd love to see you in action."

Fynta put her hands on her hips, lips pressed together. She offered a curt nod, glancing back at Theron. He relaxed his features to keep Fynta from killing Lana's asset this far into the game because she felt the risk was too high. "Form up, everyone. We move out in an hour."

Theron began the process of downloading the new map to his datapad, keeping the room full of people in his peripheral. This time, he saw Zolah's approach. The Chiss leaned against the table next to him, her voice low. "I get the impression you don't trust me with your— _friend_." Theron definitely didn't like the way she hesitated over Fynta's designation.

Theron put on a crooked smile and met the cipher's solid, red eyes. "Can't blame a guy for being thorough. Your file says a lot of interesting things about your methods."

"Oh?" When Theron didn't respond, Zolah huffed and crossed her arms, hiding her face from him. "Your major is perfectly safe with me, you have my word."

Theron unplugged his device and began flipping through the screens, watching Zolah out of the corner of his eye. "The same word you gave Ardun Kothe?" She tensed, her head turning slowly towards him. "Relax, I won't give Fynta your keyword." He kept his tone light, but let the implication hang between them. There was nothing worse for a spy than knowing an adversary had discovered their weakness. There were plenty of ways that little word, well onomatophobia wasn't exactly a small word, but he could play the part of blackmail; or a friend with a secret. Theron let it be known that the outcome was completely up to her.

"It shouldn't surprise me that he put that in my file. The man was a bastard." Zolah sighed, looking over the room. Her tone sounded bored, but Theron heard the stress beneath. He chose to play the part of loyal Republic man, just to see where things went.

"That bastard was a hero. He didn't do things clean all the time, but he got results." Theron looked up, forcing Zolah to meet his eyes. "That's the job, and you know it."

Zolah straightened, stepping closer to whisper. "So, what now? Does it make you feel powerful, Agent Shan? It did Ardun Kothe." Her lips brushed the shell of his ear. "I would be completely under your control. You could use it, you know. Command me to do whatever you wanted."

Once Theron's brain sent a stern reprimand to the rest of his body, he pulled back with a smile to look Zolah in the eye. "Would it work?" Her eyebrows twitched, though the rest of her expression remained blank. Theron kept his face close to hers, voice just as low. "You see, if my government sold me out like that, I'd stop at nothing until I corrected that little— _oversight_."

Zolah's face relaxed back into a flirty smile. "Only one way to find out, Theron." She purred his name, and Theron cursed his all too human reaction to having a beautiful woman taking such an interest in him. The two agents had marked one another, and there were only two outcomes now. Either they would end up killing one another, or in bed together. Neither were particularly good.

"Am I interrupting?" They broke eye contact at the same time to find Fynta standing behind them with a raised eyebrow. Zolah smiled sweetly, then joined the rest of the soldiers gathering their equipment. Theron let out the breath he'd been holding in one puff as Fynta stepped closer.

"I'm almost afraid to ask, but what do you know about Holran?" Fynta's expression made Theron want to groan. Clearly, she thought they'd already crossed that line, and she didn't even look surprised. Maybe sleeping with the enemy was perfectly acceptable for her, but he liked to think he had more self-control. It was probably a lie, but he could hold out hope.

Still, Theron had a reputation to uphold. "Apart from the fact that she's sexy as hell?" The major rolled her eyes, and he smiled, feeling a little better. "She's a cipher agent, a good one, and loyal to the Empire. So yeah, watch your back." He slapped Fynta on the shoulder and walked off, pleased that his voice didn't shake.

**South Beach Boardwalk**

The groups left the command base two at a time for prospective targets. Jorgan decided he would follow Cinlat's lead since she knew the place better. Raider's Cove reminded him a lot of Nar Shaddaa in the fact that no one wore their helmets. If you couldn't show your face, death warrants or not, then you were a coward and met with immediate suspicion. At present, his helmet was all he wanted.

Cinlat directed them through the maze of connecting docks that led down to the Nova Blades' headquarters. The place looked to be open to the general public, only a grizzled old man minding the entrance. Jorgan glanced over at the white haired woman as they walked. He knew he was tall compared to most human males, but Cinlat was tiny by comparison. A petite, little thing in small armor. He wondered if this was how Cormac or Vik felt standing over Fynta and Dorne.

"Not much for conversation, are you?" Cinlat asked, bringing Jorgan out of his idle thoughts. She'd never struck him as particularly chatty herself.

"Not much to say, really. Just here to do the job and go home." Truthfully, he would rather be on the Thunderclap instead of worrying about his wife trampling all over the pirate planet with Vik and an Imperial agent for company.

"Where is home?" The huntress asked, keeping her unnaturally backlit eyes straight ahead.

Jorgan finally grasped what was happening. He'd had his moment with Verin, but now Cinlat wanted a chance to ask her own questions and formulate an opinion. "The Thunderclap, for now. What about you?"

"Wherever my family is." Cinlat made a vague gesture towards their surroundings. "They're both a pain in the ass, but Verin and Fynta are my family. I suppose that makes you my brother by their standards."

"Theirs?" Jorgan had been under the impression that Cinlat had gone native. Then, it occurred to him that she'd used Basic instead of _shebs_. Maybe he'd misjudged her.

The small woman nodded. "It's not a bad set of standards, but I don't buy into all of that _nobility until death_ osik. I learned the language because it was important to Verin. But, I'm not Mando'ade." Cinlat gave a humorless laugh. "I don't have the right stuff, and the Mand'alore can shove—"

"Hey, Captain!" a gruff voice called from a stack of crates, effectively cutting off the rest of Cinlat's sentence. Jorgan had a pretty good idea where it was going, though. The Cathar decided he liked the woman all the more for her honesty. He didn't have to become a part of Fynta's world to be in it. It was confirmation of what he already knew. Fynta would never stop being Mando'ade, and Aric would never cease to be Cathar.

The man who'd waved Cinlat down had a toothless grin and one eye. Not to mention, an impressive amount of wrinkles for someone in his line of work. The grin faltered when his gaze fell on Jorgan. "Not you too, doll?"

Cinlat crossed her arms when they stopped in front of him. "I go where the credits lead, Mel. You know that."

Mel sucked his gums and nodded to himself. "You just watch yourself. I hear strange things about those Red Hulls." He leaned around to look at Aric, "No offense, mate." Jorgan decided it was probably best if he let Cinlat do the talking, so he simply fixed the guy with an icy glare. Mel shivered and refocused on Cinlat. "Well, go on in. Don't cause no trouble, though. I like this job."

"Best find a new one." Cinlat patted his shoulder as she turned down one of the tunnels. Jorgan heard the man swear. When he looked back, the old guy had abandoned his post and was running towards the shore. No wonder he'd managed to live so long.

"Not afraid he'll raise the alarm?" Jorgan asked.

"Nah. He's a coward. He prefers life above loyalty."

"Okay. Okay, I heard you," Fynta broke into the comm channel via Jorgan's earpiece. "Listen up, we've got a slight change to the plan." Jakarro roared in the background. "Vik, shut him up will you?"

Both Jorgan and Cinlat came to a halt in the middle of the underground hallway, each watching for signs of danger. "This can't be good," he muttered. Cinlat nodded, pressing a finger to her ear.

"Must you complain so loudly?" Dee-four whined in the background. "There could be ruthless pirates or hungry wildlife around us!"

"You should watch out for cannibals, too," Fynta added. "Apparently that's a problem around here." She sighed. "Seems _someone_ promised Jakarro he could blow some stuff up. He wants us to tag the targets so that he can practice his marksmanship from above. Everyone have markers?"

Jorgan dug in his belt and retrieved a small, infrared marking pen. He held it out towards Cinlat. "We're covered," she reported while he fiddled with the signal to set it parallel to their comm frequency.

"Never leave home without it," Cormac answered.

"Good, let's get on with it. Once you've marked your target, flash Jakarro," Fynta said. Vik swore, and the Wookie roared louder.

Despite the comedy playing out over the comms, Jorgan didn't feel like laughing. If Cinlat hadn't spoken up, he would have voiced his concerns. "A lot of people are going to get hurt when he hits ours," Cinlat commented. "What do you want to do about it?" They had the target with the highest population, right under the docks of the old market. While Jorgan wouldn't trust any of these people, they didn't deserve to be dragged into Revan's war.

Fynta stayed quiet for a moment, and Jorgan knew she was struggling with the decision. Those people from Corellia still haunted her when she thought no one was watching. "Mark and exfil," she finally answered.

Cinlat nodded to no one in particular. "Understood." It was hard to tell if the choice bothered the mercenary or not. She didn't show a lot of emotion, but Jorgan noticed that she kept her eyes straight afterward.

It was a long walk to the coordinates they'd been given, but Cinlat knew exactly which turns to take. Normally, Jorgan would have used this time to check in on everyone. He felt blind without his helmet, and cut off from his wife.

"Do you feel as naked as I do?" Cinlat asked softly. Fynta had mentioned once that Cinlat rarely left the ship without her helmet. She was too recognizable, and especially so after that stunt with the previous Supreme Chancellor.

"I don't like being in the dark about what the rest of my squad is up to," Jorgan admitted. His entire career had been about watching others. In the Deadeyes, it was for the prime shot. Back on Ord Mantell, it was keeping up with multiple ops and looking for details they might miss. Then, Fynta had introduced him to the high-tech HUD system in the beskar'gam. It was in his nature to be in the know.

Cinlat still didn't lift her eyes from whatever fixed point she'd chosen ahead of her, but somehow made it clear that she was entertained. "Namely, Fynta?" she replied with a smirk.

"Definitely a priority," Jorgan answered. He kept his answer cryptic, just in case Shan decided to eavesdrop. "She has a tendency to pull risky stunts. Vik doesn't exactly discourage it, and I don't like her being alone with another Imperial agent. The last one didn't end well." Cinlat offered a questioning glance, and Jorgan sighed. "It's a long story." It was one of the many confusing stories from the file she'd given him a while back. He'd tried so hard to resist the temptation to read it, but in the end, curiosity won out.

"She's been that way since she was a girl." It was easy to forget how much older Cinlat was than Jorgan. Her small stature gave the impression of a much younger woman. "You're good for her, you know," the huntress continued. "You keep her grounded. Every commander needs to be a little risky as long as they've got a solid guy watching their back." He nodded his gratitude. Not just for the compliment, but also for her discretion.

Cinlat took a left turn and stopped at a plain, old-style, wooden door. "Want to do the honors?"

Jorgan leaned back and put his boot to the rotten wood. It splintered with a wet crash, leaving only a few pieces hanging from the hinges. "Huh."

"Maintenance isn't a high priority here. The salt eats away at everything anyway, so why bother?" Cinlat stepped over the broken door and aimed the marker. They waited thirty seconds, then she flashed Jakarro's ship. "Target marked. Give us three minutes to get out."

"Three minutes," Dee-four replied and began a countdown. They were nearly to the shore when Jorgan caught the sound of a low flying ship, then a ball of flame erupted behind them. Jorgan tried not to think about the people inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> ret'lini. [Rayt-LEE-nee] just in case  
> Resol'nare [RAY-sol NAH-ray] Six Actions, the tenets of Mando life


	45. Oncoming Storm

**Skyline Falls  
** **Nova Blade Cargo Dock**

Fynta stood with hands on her hips, staring at the crate. "They're not as big as I expected." Agent Shan had picked up chatter about a slave camp nearby, and Jorgan and Fynta decided that it was their duty to intervene. The vote had been unanimous, with the exception of an unconscious Weequay and an Imp who said it wasn't mission critical. In the end, Fynta sent Zolah back to base with Vik on Jakarro's ship, while the rest moved on. Cinlat didn't complain. She'd been a slave growing up; the life sucked.

The five soldiers needed a way onto the remote island. Leave it to Fynta and Verin to think of cargo crates. Only two remained in the wreckage of the latest storm, or maybe the dock had been visited by one of those wampas that took Vik out. Cinlat didn't bother hiding her amusement when they came upon the two women lugging the Weequay's sorry ass up a hill. She guessed it was a mild concussion, nothing more. No one even complained when Verin _nudged him forcefully_ with his boot to make sure Vik wasn't faking.

"Perfect," Verin said. "Only two left."

Fynta slapped the back of her brother's head. "You need to go back to school, or'dinii. There are five of us." She held one hand in front of his face and counted, accentuating each number with its corresponding finger.

Verin slapped Fynta's hand away. "Do you really want to wait for them to ferry each one of us across? Two boxes are faster."

Fynta sighed, then scowled at Jorgan and Cormac when they had the audacity to look entertained. "Cormac, you hold down the fort here. Take out any stragglers." She lifted one leg over the edge of her chosen chariot and looked inside. "Sorry, but you won't fit."

"Boss, you wound me," Cormac responded, bumping her with his elbow. "Do you really think I'd leave anyone alive?" Cinlat decided she liked Cormac when Fynta grunted from the impact of hitting the bottom. If he ever needed a job, he was welcome on her crew.

"You'll pay for that," Fynta called from inside, and Cormac's smile grew. "You coming, Captain?" Cinlat stood on her toes to look over the edge. The major took up more than half of the available space on her own. She wasn't sure how the Cathar would fit as well.

Jorgan climbed in carefully while Fynta pulled her knees as close to her chest as she could in heavy armor. He eased himself into a sitting position across from her with his knees bent and feet to either side of her hips. Verin went to secure the lid and laughed, "You're a hell of a trusting man, Jorgan."

"He's armored," Fynta protested. "Not a whole lot of damage I can do."

"Let's not test it," Jorgan added, his tone less than thrilled. "That prosthetic is pretty strong."

Verin snorted another laugh and shut the lid. When he'd found a comfortable position in the second crate, he called for Cinlat to join him. "You won't be able to fend off my advances in here, cyare," he taunted. Cinlat had years of practice ignoring his overt flirting, yet it produced an eye roll all the same. She was fairly certain that Verin did it on purpose, just to see what new way he could annoy her. Yet, she stayed at his side, unable to imagine a life without him in it. The irony being, Cinlat had always sworn that she'd never let herself become dependent on a man. Monetarily, she'd succeeded. It was emotional dependence that she hadn't planned for.

"Keep your comms open while we're in transit and on the island," Fynta ordered. Once more, Cinlat marveled at the change from unruly little brat to seasoned veteran. Moreover, the bounty hunter was impressed by the lack of flirting between Fynta and Jorgan. They really were serious about keeping their relationship quiet.

Cinlat eased in, sitting with her back against Verin's chest and her feet braced against the other side of the crate. Verin slid his arms around her waist. "Just like old times."

Cormac trotted up and grabbed the lid. "I bet that's an interesting story." The sound of far off engines drew his attention just before he slammed the lid shut. The thud of boots echoed from outside, followed by a splash.

"Did they make you?" Fynta asked.

Cormac waited a few seconds before responding. "Doesn't look like it, but those things are fast. Okay, you're up first, bosses. Hold on."

Jorgan swore as the engine noise settled overhead. "Udesiir," Fynta whispered in a soothing voice.

"Bosses are loaded, your turn, Team Mando." Cinlat felt Verin's chest bounce against her armor in silent laughter as his arms tightened around her waist. She slapped his hand in case he decided to cop a feel while they were en route. It drove her nuts that he never took anything seriously.

The box shifted, and Cinlat put her hands out to the side to steady herself. She elbowed Verin in the faceplate inadvertently but didn't apologize because he probably deserved it. He grunted, but kept any snide remarks to himself. They swayed uneasily for about fifteen minutes, then thudded to the ground. Cinlat estimated they'd been dropped from roughly a meter, although the jolt through her bones insisted it had to have been more. "I'm getting too old for this," Verin complained. Cinlat thought she'd probably be stiff in the morning too, but refused to admit it in front of the young warriors.

The lid opened, and Fynta stared in at them, "Have a nice flight?"

Verin gave Cinlat a shove to get her into a standing position. "Snacks were a bit dry."

A quick scan of their surroundings showed Jorgan over by the water, hands on knees. Fynta touched Verin's shoulder when he took a step towards Aric and shook her head. "The Captain doesn't do so well with unusual modes of transportation." Cinlat figured even Cathar warriors had to fear something.

In another minute, Jorgan straightened, took a deep breath, and returned to the small huddle as if nothing were amiss. "What's the plan?" Cinlat didn't mind if the Cathar took a moment to clear his head so long as it didn't affect the mission or their safety. She felt a sense of pride in the steadiness of his voice, and the hard set of his jaw. Aric really was an excellent match for Fynta.

"Fan out and cause as much trouble as possible," Fynta answered, pointing inland towards the trees. "Cormac, how are things on your end?"

"Quiet," he grumbled. "You sure I couldn't have squeezed into one of those with you?"

"Lose some weight first," Verin teased.

"Ouch," Cormac replied with a laugh, then fell silent.

Fynta and Aric had their rifles, Cinlat, her long barreled rippers, and Verin pulled his beskad. Fynta eyed it, brow raised, and Verin shrugged. "This job sounds like it requires a more visceral approach."

"You just want an excuse to play with ba'buir's toy," Fynta commented, then cut her brother off before he could argue. "Move out."

The place was a swamp, pretty, but Cinlat couldn't imagine the living conditions were that great. "Had a run-in with slavers second year out of training," Jorgan whispered as the group made their way onto dry land towards the center of the island. "I still can't forget the smell. Unwashed, unfed people caged in their own dirt." He hissed, pulling everyone's attention to a well-hidden, but poorly constructed prison. The people sitting on the rusty metal floor could've been straight out of his story.

"Blast it." Aric raised his rifle and shot the lock off. Then stomped up to the gate and flung it wide. "Go on, get out of here," he ordered with a nod of his head.

The five beings inside shrunk back from his snarl before edging past when he didn't try to eat them. They started running as soon as their bare feet hit the dirt. "Let's split up and work around the island," Fynta commanded as she watched the prisoners flee through the brush.

It took nearly two hours to clear the island. The comms stayed open, but no one spoke. Jorgan snarled every time he found more slaves. Apart from that, the silence was punctuated only by the screams of the guards unlucky enough to be in Verin's sector. He preferred the close quarters, personal touch when dealing with situations he found particularly distasteful. Judging by the length of those dying cries, he'd chosen to announce his displeasure brutally.

The island was much smaller than any of them had expected, and soon they were pointing blasters at one another. "Is that everyone?" Fynta asked.

"Everyone I could find." Cinlat holstered her rippers and checked her vibroblade. The salty air was already gunking up her systems. She'd need to give her armor and weapons a thorough cleaning when they returned to the safe house.

"Hold on." Another strangled scream reverberated over Verin's comm. "Okay, last one for me."

"Meet us back at the docks," Fynta ordered as she turned on her heel. Cinlat positioned herself on the opposite side of Fynta from Jorgan. The major smiled and held out a detonator. "I left a few presents on all of the relays I could find."

The Cathar chuckled and opened his fingers to show a matching one. "Me too."

Fynta dropped hers into Aric's palm, then stood with her arms crossed while they waited on Verin. Cinlat heard him coming before she saw him, shaking her head at his lack of stealth. "That's everyone, Jorgan, would you like to do the honors?" To anyone else, it was a simple exchange. To a Mandalorian, it was a token of love and respect.

The four soldiers faced inland, and Jorgan pressed both buttons with one thumb. The sequence of explosions was beautiful. Red and yellow flames merging with the setting sun as the smoke blended into the darkening sky. "I think that wraps this op," Jorgan commented, pocketing the detonators.

"Good thing too." Cinlat's attention shifted upwards when a water droplet splashed against her cheek. Those shadowy clouds didn't just mean nightfall. The temperature dropped a few degrees, and lightning arced in the distance. "Looks like a storm is coming."

**Raider's Cove  
** **Safe House**

By the time they got back to base, Fynta was soaked, exhausted, achy, and ready for a nap. The sudden drop in barometric pressure left her hip throbbing. Yuun and Dorne had their heads together over on one of the consoles, but Elara looked up at their entrance. She crossed the room and threw her arms around Cormac in an uncharacteristically public kiss. Fynta guessed it really didn't matter anymore. They couldn't get much further off the grid.

Cormac's eye widened, then fluttered closed as he folded his wife in his arms. Theron raised his eyebrows at the two, then shot Fynta an incredulous stare while Lana smiled. Fynta almost laughed, having forgotten that Dorne was supposed to be _her_ love interest, not Cormac's. Maybe she'd try to convince Theron that they were sharing.

"We got all the slaves off of the island," Jorgan reported, rubbing a hand vigorously over his head and scattering water droplets everywhere.

"We heard," Theron replied, prying his gaze from the two soldiers. "Word of your raid is going around fast. Even the Revanites have heard about the great Red Hulls." His voice might have been all business, but Fynta could see the wheels turning behind those brown eyes when he pulled his attention back to her. He'd shifted tactics and started trying to piece together a new puzzle. Unfortunately, she couldn't thwart it until she knew what it was.

Zolah powered on the holotable, and a man in a gaudy hat appeared. "We intercepted this transmission from the Nova Blade's headquarters." Everyone gathered around the table as Margok, the man in charge of the local gang, complained about his lot to none other than Revan himself. The mask must be a recurring theme, as he'd worn it on Rakata Prime as well. Revan had just been a man when they rescued him last year, not even remotely intimidating.

Fynta did a quick scan around the room, accounting for her people while listening to the two argue. Vik was awake and grumpy in the corner with a fresh bandage around his skull. At least he wasn't dead. She pulled her attention back to the recorded holo and the outlandishly large hat sitting on the man's head.

The group descended into planning more Nova Blade hits, the best angle of attack to take down Margok, and mention of possible Mandalorian allies. Theron looked ready to push Havoc out the door again, but Fynta held up a hand. "First things first, my squad needs some rest."

"Of course." Lana waved in the direction of a few cots set up along the wall. "We have food from the boardwalk as well. I'm afraid a few hours is all we can spare."

"A few hours will do."

Verin flopped onto one of the cots, threw an arm over his face, and beckoned for Cinlat. She curled up beside him, taking up only a fraction of the bed, even in full armor, and the two fell asleep with practiced ease. Fynta knew it for a ruse. Cinlat never let her guard down. She hoped the bounty hunters would manage some rest, but figured they kept a steady supply of stims. Some legitimate, others illegal. Fynta had no delusions that her relatives were anything more than criminal.

"Bet I can top that," Cormac challenged, taking up a cot on the other side. There was no chance of Elara squeezing on there with him. He was too shabbing big, and she was busy with Yuun anyway.

Fynta opted for food first, while Aric went for both. He accepted the mystery meat she held out to him with brief eye contact and a nod, then took it over to the cot on the far end. He'd devoured the entire thing before he sat down. The Cathar had reclaimed his helmet as soon as they returned, and plunked it on the floor by his cot. Their eyes met again, and Fynta nodded that they were safe enough for a little sleep. Especially since Dorne and Yuun didn't look like they'd be turning in anytime soon. With a skeptical shrug, Aric laid back with a sigh, keeping one foot on the floor while the other propped on the bed.

Fynta sat at the table and dug through the food options. Elara slipped into the seat across from her and held out an injector. When Fynta raised an eyebrow at it, the medic sighed. "You're limping."

_Blast that woman's super vigilance._ "It's just the weather change." Elara's brows pulled together, and Fynta accepted the injector with a huff. She knew the woman would stab her with it when she fell asleep anyway.

"All the same, sir. Do let me know if it gets worse. We have yet to ascertain how the equipment will handle such a harsh environment." Fynta nodded, flicking her eyes towards Lana's approach. Elara took her acquiescence in silence and left to join Yuun again. The major selected her dinner and tucked in.

Lana stopped beside the table and dipped her head. "May I join you?" Fynta gestured to the bench across from her, mouth too full to answer properly. The Sith didn't take offense, which interested Fynta more than it should have. "I find it fascinating how they can sleep in that armor," Lana remarked, eyes panning over the cots. "It looks terribly uncomfortable."

Fynta swallowed. "Beskar'gam literally translates to iron skin," she explained. "Not to mention fatigue. I've seen men sleep standing up in battle formation." Lana put her elbows on the table, chin propped on the back of her knuckles. Her orange eyes both captivated and terrified Fynta. "We live in our armor. Most of the time we don't even notice it." Although there were times when it was a downright pain in the shebs, figuratively and literally.

"Fascinating," Lana smiled. "Is that a Mandalorian custom or military?"

Fynta thought that one over while she chewed. "Both. Mandalorians are soldiers, regardless of who we fight for. Soldiers depend on their armor universally."

"I find your squad, and your brother and sister, all appealing," Lana admitted. "There is a sense of comradery that is hard to find where I come from." _Fierfek._ Fynta had forgotten that most Force users could sense emotion. She no doubt picked up on the strong bonds between herself, Jorgan, Verin, and Cinlat. It would explain why she didn't look surprised by Elara's affection towards Cormac. A cold fear settled in her stomach. Lana was likable, but the idea of her having any sort of leverage over her squad made Fynta nauseous.

"A squad is a family. We watch each other's backs and make sure everyone comes home," Fynta warned. Sith or not, there would be reparation should anyone in her small group come to harm.

If Lana took her threat as such, she didn't let on. "I should expect nothing less." She pushed from the table, tipping her head in the same way Jedi did. "You should rest. Thank you for your time, Major."

"Certainly." Lana was a confusing woman, the glowing, orange eyes spoke to her dark side corruption, but Fynta couldn't sense any malice in the woman. Not like the other Sith she'd come into contact with. Maybe Lana had missed her calling as a Light sider? She shook that notion away too, unable to see _anyone_ bending to the strict Jedi code. No one was that perfect.

Eventually, Fynta decided that nothing would come from her trying to figure out the motives of a Sith Lord. Both Cormac and Jorgan were breathing deeply when she settled on the cot between them. The bed was hard and uncomfortable; Fynta didn't even remember laying her head on the pillow.

**Skyline River Pass  
** **Western Jungle Expanse**

"That's a big ship," Cormac whistled over the comms. Zolah leaned over Theron's shoulder to watch the screen while Havoc squad traversed the jungle. The vessel in question stood maybe twelve meters from the ground, and that was just the part that was visible. It also happened to be the command base for the Nova Blades, and where Margok had chosen to go to ground.

Zolah opted to stay behind this time. She'd gained a wealth of knowledge from her stint with the major. The woman had remained professional, only pausing a moment before choosing the mission above collateral damage. In all honesty, had she not sworn to end the major's life, Zolah might have liked the woman. Even now, she could admit to a grudging respect.

"One thing about fighting pirates: They keep you on your toes. No tactics, no discipline, and a lot of messy surprises." Jorgan's gravelly voice emanated over the comms. Theron narrowed his eyes at the screen, a slight scowl twisting his handsome features. The man had been surly ever since Havoc's return from the slave camp, though he'd dodged any of Zolah's attempts to ascertain why.

"So, what you're saying is, it's a good thing you've lived with me for the last few years?" Fynta commented. Zolah checked the major's POV to find her squatting in the mud, the deluge still pounding against the soldiers' armor. While the rain made infiltration into Margok's ship easier, the Chiss didn't envy their task.

Cormac guffawed, appearing completely undaunted by the rain. "Yeah, I was thinking along the same lines. We're as prepared as we'll ever be." Zolah fought back a smile. She'd spent two days with this group so far, and had already developed psych evaluations, even attachments. It was a risk in her job. Sharing a living space with the enemy wasn't always about finding the right time to strike. In order to gain a person's trust, connections had to be made. Most of the people in Havoc Squad were likable, which meant Zolah needed to keep her guard up all the more. Not to mention, she genuinely enjoyed Theron's company.

The soldiers worked their way closer to the Aggressor, penetrating the outer perimeter. Zolah had just leaned closer to examine something that caught Theron's attention when her personal comm clicked in her ear. She kept her features smooth, ignoring the tickle behind her eardrum, and straightened casually. The Chiss considered the wisdom of making up an excuse to step outside versus slipping out unnoticed. Both might raise Theron's suspicion. In the end, she settled for stealth.

Of course, Lana would not be so easily alluded. The Sith met Zolah's gaze, then nodded and took her position behind Theron to watch over his shoulder. Zolah padded quietly from the room, then answered the call. "Hold on."

Silence greeted Zolah's answer, but she could hear someone breathing on the other end of the line. It was familiar, comforting even. She walked out of range of Theron's listening devices before continuing. "How did the negotiations go?"

"We successfully mitigated the fallout from the factories, and the subsequent distrust between Killik and the Empire," Vector answered. Hearing his voice loosened a knot in Zolah's stomach. "It was a surprise to find Kaliyo aboard the ship, but not our wife." There was an edge to his voice that churned up old guilt. She hadn't considered that he might perceive her sudden absence as a termination of their relationship. Then again, they hadn't parted on the best of terms.

"Work called me away unexpectedly," Zolah answered in an attempt to ease his concern. "Nothing more."

Vector let out a long breath. "That is good to know." He paused, both of them still navigating the uneasy waters that they'd tread since Manaan. "Do you require assistance?"

At last, an opening Zolah could use to put this whole situation behind her. "I would love it if you could join me." She hoped her voice sounded sincere. Intelligence had trained her to fabricate emotion, but demonstrating the real thing still alluded her at times. "Unfortunately, I think your presence here might hamper my goals. It would be unwise to bring my husband into the situation."

There was another long pause, and Zolah waited while Vector considered the plethora of meanings behind her words. "We understand," he finally responded. "Still, we would like to remain on standby should your circumstances change."

"Thank you, Vector. It will be nice to know that you are near." Zolah meant every word of it. Vector was one of the few people she trusted implicitly. Even if she hadn't figured out how to be what he deserved, these moments made the journey worthwhile. On a whim, Zolah decided to extend a token of peace. "I'm sending you my coordinates, it's heavily encrypted, but you know my code."

"Do be careful, beloved." The line cut off, and Zolah found that she could breathe easier. A weight in her chest, one that had been there for so long that she barely noticed it, vanished. Her steps back to the safe house came lighter than before.

Zolah returned to the view screen in time to see it light up. Vik's POV showed a massive, red fireball just above the trees. It turned blue, then slammed back to the ground with enough force to shake the feeds.

"Cormac. Was that you? Report." Fynta's tone remained calm over the comm, but Elara frowned at her vitals' readout. It occurred to Zolah that the Havoc medic had her hands full with this bunch, probably amounting to the most difficult job of them all. She wondered if the woman might be a weak link in their seemingly impervious armor. Then, reminded herself that Elara Dorne had served as an Imperial and _chose_ to defect. There would be no swaying her decision once made. If Zolah wanted to get into someone's head, it would have to be either the Weequay, Theron, or the major herself.

"Whoa," Cormac cheered. "That baby worked perfectly!"

Fynta let out a sigh of relief. "Fierfek, you nearly gave me a heart attack. What is it with you demo guys and not giving the rest of us a warning?"

"Sorry, boss. Next time I'll yell _fire in the hole_."

"Shabuir," the major muttered. Zolah decided that it might not be a bad idea to brush up on her Mando'a. The Empire had a catalogue on the elusive people while the current Mand'alor allied with them. She'd never poked around much in their linguistics, though.

"How many and how much?" Verin asked, his laughter overpowering Cormac's response. The line filled with voices. Vik demanded that was his invention, Cormac defended his patent, while Verin haggled for deals. It was conversational anarchy.

Theron rubbed his temples and leaned forward to activate the comm on the console. "That registered all the way over here. Just once, I'd like not to worry about my own wellbeing when one of you people rig something to blow." More laughter came in response, followed by Vik's suggestion that Theron should lighten up and get laid. The SIS agent growled and severed the connection.

"Such a lively group," Lana smiled before ambling over to check on Yuun's progress. The Gand remained silent, working in his small corner and ignoring the banter around him. From what Zolah knew of the species, this was not unusual. She made a note to start a dialogue with him later, to see how malleable _he_ was. Gand were notoriously friendly and open if you knew how to talk to them.

"So, how'd the call go?" Theron asked, keeping his eyes on the screen, but lowering his voice so that only Zolah could hear. She spared him a questioning glance, and the man smiled. "Come on, I thought we weren't going to insult one another's intelligence."

"Or pry," Zolah replied, although she'd been sure she'd moved far enough away to avoid detection.

Theron chuckled. "Oh, _secret_ holocalls." Rich, brown eyes met hers. "Getting calls from other men that you don't want me to know about?" Zolah couldn't be sure if that twinkle in his eye meant that he'd overheard her part of the conversation, or if he was simply flirting.

Affecting a broad smile, she chose to play it close to the chest. "Jealous?"

"Maybe."

"I think we are coming up on the main entrance," Fynta reported, cutting off their teasing. Theron's attention returned to the monitor where the major squatted to slice into the security system. Jorgan stood guard over her, using the leaves of the dense jungle to hide them from view.

The laughter had settled back into something that almost resembled professionalism, though Zolah doubted it would last. "We found a few pieces of tech that look important. We're going to mark them for destruction," Verin reported. "Be careful, vode." Less than a minute later, Jakarro's ship swooped low and something else exploded in the distance.

A piece of information from years earlier surfaced so suddenly that Zolah nearly jolted upright. While she didn't know the language, she'd spent enough time amongst Mandalorians to pick up on their syntax. Verin had used the plural form of the word; siblings. He wasn't just talking to Fynta, but had claimed Jorgan as family too. The implications could be momentous to intelligence, or a simple slip of the tongue. Either way, Zolah would keep a careful eye on it. A quick glance at Theron revealed a similar expression, though she couldn't be sure if he'd picked up on it as well.

Fynta's fingers tangled in the wire, and Theron activated the commlink again. "Come on, you're getting rusty. You can work faster than that."

"You want to get your shebs down here and do it, Shan?" Fynta ejected the blade from her gauntlet, severing a bundle of wires. There was a faint hiss, then Fynta tested the manual lever, and the airlock popped open.

"Taught her everything she knows," Theron boasted over his shoulder. Zolah shook her head, pretending to find him irritating. His brief slip into a good mood faded when the screen flashed red. Theron sighed and ran a hand through his hair while he contacted the ground team. "Looks like the Nova Blades have their own slicers on staff, so I can't get any real data."

Fynta's POV showed the tip of a rifle barrel, then night vision switched on when they passed into the main entrance. "Cormac. Team Mando, you guys hear that?"

"On it, boss," Cormac assured. He'd joined back up with the bounty hunters, nodding to each as he fell in alongside them.

"We'll take out the slicers. You shut that di'kut up," Cinlat answered. Margok shouted insults over the broken down ship's speakers, no doubt attempting to distract the soldiers. Zolah was fairly confident he'd lose his voice before they lost focus.

"Good luck, everyone. Theron out." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "You know, I almost feel bad for the guy." Zolah didn't. Margok was one step closer to her objective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> or'dinii [Ohr-DEE-nee] moron
> 
> cyare [SHAH-ray] beloved
> 
> udesiir [oo-DAY-seer] relax, take it easy
> 
> Beskad: a traditional Mandalorian saber, primarily forged from nearly indestructible beskar iron. Comprised of a single-edged blade with a leather-bound hilt, the beskad was weighty and incredibly resilient, capable of delivering powerful blows with each swing. Designed to batter down an enemy's defenses, beskade were favored weapons of the ancient Mandalorian warriors, though the use of the iron blade spanned millennia.
> 
> ba'buir [BA-boo-EER] grandfather


	46. Aggressive Negotiations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up on Rishi, and there is trouble in paradise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned yet how much I love Rishi? So many lively characters that you get to interact with. As always, Mando'a translations are at the bottom. Throw a couple of volatile people into this kind of high stress situation and there is no end to the fun that can be had.

**The Aggressor  
** **Nova Blade Base**

Cormac slipped into the broken down ship just behind Fynta and Jorgan. He'd split off from the others to cover more ground and stalked carefully through the front door, wary of an ambush. As he combed through the dirty corridors of the long dead craft, Balic finally realized what was familiar about it. Everything smelled of piss, just like his old neighborhood growing up.

Fynta had tasked Balic with getting to the computer room and taking out the slicers. He figured they couldn't all be top notch soldiers, so it'd be a simple enough job. It took ten minutes to find the designated room, and when he did, Cormac's heart sank. The room was filled with blokes and equipment. Cannons and sensitive computer components didn't necessarily mix, so Balic would have to use his other toys. Quietly, he pulled his blaster and unsheathed a knife, then crouched on the other side of the open doorway.

There were four techs, so Balic would have to be quick. The first two were easy. Sneak up behind, slit one's throat and blast the other, but that gave the last two time to react. One guy ran at Balic, impaling himself obligingly on the blade. The final proved to be more stubborn. The tech had used the distraction to hide behind a console that Balic couldn't afford to shoot. It didn't help that the man's holdout blaster made getting over to him difficult. Cormac's armor would hold up, but if a stray bolt ricochet and damaged the terminal, the whole op would be a bust.

The man yelled something that didn't sound friendly, then broke cover to fire. Cormac prepared to make his move, then stared when the guy fell over. He continued to blink at the corpse in confusion until he saw a figure leaning against the doorframe stroking a long barreled blaster in an obscene manner.

"About time," Cormac muttered, standing to access the console. He had no clue that Cinlat was there, but it helped his bravado to pretend that he'd been aware of her presence the whole time.

"You had it under control," Cinlat replied with a shrug. "You know how to slice that thing?"

"No clue."

The huntress crossed the small room and batted Balic's hands away from the console. "Well, stop pressing buttons before you erase everything." He watched over Cinlat's shoulder, not a difficult task given that she barely reached his chest, as she nimbly navigated the system. Cormac didn't think even Fynta could have done a better job, and he was pretty sure there wasn't anything she _couldn't_ do.

" _You're making the biggest mistake ever. I got connections!"_ Margok's voice echoed over the ship's intercom amongst blaster fire.

"Was he talking to us, or them?" Cormac asked.

Verin stalked into the room, dropping to one knee to wipe his blade on the dead tech's uniform. "Maybe he was talking to me." Cormac had yet to see the merc use it, but he'd heard enough while they were on the slave island.

"Shab," Fynta growled over the open comms.

"Up and at 'em," Jorgan grunted. There was a hint of laughter in the Cathar's normally serious tone, which struck Cormac as odd. Jorgan rarely smiled when Fynta cursed.

The three soldiers in the computer room shared a glance, but Cormac was the only one curious enough to ask. "You hit, boss?"

"It would sound a lot better if I said yes," Fynta responded with a sigh. "I tripped. Bloody plant roots are everywhere."

Cormac could barely contain himself, and Verin visibly shook with suppressed laughter. "Security measures are down. Nicely done, Cinlat. I'm not sure if I'm proud or terrified at how quickly you pulled that off," Theron commented, ruining Cormac's joke that Fynta probably wouldn't have appreciated anyway. "Trouble is, so's the network. Margok must've shut it down manually."

"Found him," Fynta reported. "Give us five minutes. Ow-"

"Don't do that again," Jorgan warned in a tone that no longer sounded playful.

"No worries, I won't." Cormac checked Fynta's POV. From her perspective, he guessed she was standing on some kind of balcony looking down. He wasn't sure what the major had done, but it was probably stupid.

" _This is my ship!"_ Margok yelled, spraying the room with a hand cannon. " _Think you can just walk on in and be left alive?"_

Fynta broke cover, and for a moment, the images of flashing lights, ground, ceiling, ground, and then Jorgan disoriented Cormac. He watched the Cathar reach past Fynta', grabbing her shoulder before taking up a sniping position again.

Verin leaned against the console and fiddled with something on his gauntlet while the commanders dealt with Margok. Cormac hated waiting. He was nearly ready to march onto the bridge to join them when Fynta let out a cheer. "Stubborn shabuir."

"Took you long enough, ad'ika," Verin replied with a mock yawn. Cormac couldn't help but grin at the relentless hounding between the siblings. Fynta always gave a good ribbing, so it was nice to find someone who could outmatch her sass. And there was no way around it; Verin was sassy.

"Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod?" Fynta snapped as she sliced into the terminal. "Ne'johaa." Cormac didn't quite catch all of that first one, but that last bit made the context clear enough. Verin had gotten under Fynta's skin. "Alright, Theron. The rest is up to you."

Cormac shared a speeder bike with Fynta on the way back. The thick jungle forced them to travel single file, two to a bike. Cormac held Fynta's belt and resisted the urge to ask if they should switch places when she shifted positions again, bringing them frighteningly close to a tree.

Jorgan and Vik had the other, which Balic knew annoyed both, and Fynta kept them in front of her. She shifted her weight on the seat again, causing the bike to veer slightly to the left, and Cormac couldn't keep quiet any longer. He activated her private line. "Hey boss, you alright?"

"This planet's weather is awful," Fynta groused.

Balic realized what was going on. Elara had mentioned that Fynta had been limping a lot. She'd rambled on about atmospheric pressure and the effect it had on the major's joints and circuitry. Most of it he didn't understand, but Cormac got the gist. "Your hip is bothering you again, isn't it?" Every soldier had their aches and pains, although Cormac imagined having your leg blown off, then wired back on, went deeper.

Fynta slowed the bike, eventually coming to a stop, then slid from the seat. "How about you drive the rest of the way."

Balic scooted forward and waited for the major to clamber on behind him. It wasn't until he felt the tug at his belt that he started forward again. "You two alright back there?" Jorgan asked. Of course the captain would notice. Cormac bet the Cathar already knew the answer.

"Just a change of scenery, boss, nothing to worry about." Cormac reached into his belt and pulled out an injector. They weren't up to speed yet, so it was easy enough to hand it back to Fynta. "Don't tell Elara I gave you that. She'll fuss at me for not ratting on you."

Fynta chuckled and patted the top of his helmet. "Vor entye, ner vod." Balic smiled. Fynta had slipped into Mando'a a lot since Verin showed up. He liked seeing this side of her, the way she must have been before responsibility weighed her down. This glimpse of what a cohesive Mando family unit looked like made him thankful for what Fynta had done in the squad.

It didn't take long to reach the safe house, and Balic parked the speeder next to the others. Fynta's gait looked stiff, but not nearly as bad as it had been. "If we can find Torch and get her talking, she might give us some good intel. Maybe even help us take the Revanites on." Theron said from the holotable he'd gathered everyone around, glancing up when the two soldiers entered.

"It would be nice to have a few Mandalorians on our side," Verin mused. "Especially _old fossils_." Margok had used that term to describe the local population. He'd meant it as an insult, but Cormac knew better. Old Mandalorians were far more dangerous that the young ones. It meant they were survivors.

Theron continued with the briefing, pointing out a massive island and different ways they might be able to approach unnoticed. Cinlat shot all of the spy's ideas down until he threw his hands up in frustration. "Fine, we'll table it for the moment. Get some rest." Zolah, the Imperial spook, took up position next to Theron, as did Yuun, and the three began pointing at datapads and muttering between themselves.

Jorgan ambled over to stand on the other side of Fynta. He kept his eyes straight, and his voice low. "You okay?" Cormac knew the Cathar wasn't talking to him. He considered moving away to give the commanders some privacy, but that might look suspicious. So, he continued to lean against the wall with his arms crossed and pretended to be deaf.

"Yeah, just this shabbing planet doesn't like me." Fynta nudged Jorgan with her elbow. "Cormac fixed me up, though." The two men shared a nod, a silent confirmation that they had the major's back.

Something buzzed, and all three looked around for the source. Jorgan patted the pockets on his belt, confusion evident, and came up with his old holo. Fynta grumbled that she didn't know he still had that one, and Jorgan ignored her. "It's an incoming holomessage . . ." the Cathar's eyes widened. "From General Garza."

"No way, let me see." Fynta yanked his arm down so that she could get a look, and even Cormac leaned over for a peek. "She wants to meet. These coordinates are not in a reputable place."

"Great," Jorgan grumbled, puffing out an annoyed sigh. Garza was on Rishi, knew where Havoc Squad was, and wouldn't speak over the comms. The last time they'd been contacted like this had been when Balker handed Fynta a file to put in front of the Senate to oust a dirty Senator. Another one of Rakton's little ploys to get Havoc out of the way when blowing them to hell didn't work.

Fynta sighed, "Cormac, I need you to cover for us while we take care of this. Don't tell anyone _anything_."

Balic nodded and clapped her on the back. "You got it, boss. Be careful."

Fynta and Jorgan slipped out the door just before she activated their comms. "Theron, Dorne, I'm going off the grid for a couple of hours. Don't worry, got an encrypted SOS from . . . an old friend. I'm taking Jorgan with me."

Cormac saw Theron straighten and glare in his direction. "Now isn't the time for personal—"

"Understood, sir," Elara cut in, meeting Balic's gaze. He gave a slight nod to her questioning eyebrow raise. "Let us know if you need backup." Theron's mouth opened and closed a few times before Zolah pulled his attention back to whatever they were working on. The SIS agent gave up for the time being, but he clearly wasn't happy about it.

"Get some drinks while you're out," Vik commented. There was no response.

**Western Jungle Expanse  
** **Final Eclipse Squad Soldier Location**

The ground squished beneath Jorgan's boots as they crept through the muddy grass. The fact that water saturated everything only added to the weight of their current task. "That must be it," Fynta reported, pointing at a partially hidden beacon in the foliage.

They'd killed four Republic soldiers so far, once again cleaning up the brass's mess. Eclipse Squad should never have happened, but that didn't stop the higher ups from putting untested, Rakata tech into live, SpecForce soldiers.

Fynta looked up at Jorgan, her face hidden behind the faceplate. He knew what expression she wore without having to see it. He heard it in her voice. "How did Garza find us out here," the major wondered aloud as she removed the door to the signal booster. "Do we have a leak? Have I missed a tracker on the Thunderclap?"

Fynta had asked those same questions repeatedly since they'd left the briefing, as if voicing them might somehow produce an answer. Jorgan had his own theories, and he knew Fynta wouldn't like them. He'd kept them to himself thus far, but she wasn't going to give up. Jorgan sighed. "Maybe Theron could shed some light on it."

Fynta's hands stopped short of grasping the wires. She didn't move or look over her shoulder, and within a few seconds, she resumed pulling apart the wires. "Do you think Theron sold us out?" Jorgan could tell the prospect stung by how low her voice pitched.

"I think that having a credible contact inside the Republic would be too irresistible at a time like this," Jorgan answered carefully.

Fynta remained silent while she worked, mulling over his answer. Jorgan regretted his decision to speak up. It never boded well when Fynta went silent during a mission. She was either plotting Theron's death, or regretting the years spent watching his back, maybe both.

Jorgan stood quietly beside his wife, eyes scanning the horizon, waiting for the inevitable ambush. He needed to make sure Fynta's mind remained on the mission. They only had one more soldier to handle, then this nightmare would be over. Aric nudged Fynta with his knee, and she sighed in response. "Eclipse Squad got a bad deal, but they volunteered." It sounded like a textbook case of justification, but Jorgan didn't comment on it.

Finally, Fynta stood, rifle cradled in her arms. "So, how are you getting along with the rest of the clan?" The Cathar offered a sidelong look at his wife. She hadn't used that word to describe her family since they first met. Jorgan realized that he'd heard a lot more Mando'a since Verin and Cinlat entered the picture too.

"No complaints." They stood quietly, surveying their surroundings, and Jorgan simply couldn't help himself. "How about you?"

Fynta let out a long breath. "He's a damn pain in the shebs, but I've missed them." Jorgan chuckled. Verin got under her skin in a way that no other person in the galaxy had mastered, and it amused the hell out of Jorgan.

The comm signal that connected Havoc to General Garza clicked, and both soldiers snapped their mouths shut. "You're looking for Major Nol Corovani, callsign Monarch. Eclipse Squad commander-" Her voice sounded haggard, but Jorgan stopped short of pity.

It took the Cathar a couple of seconds to register that Garza had stopped mid-sentence. By the time he realized that something was wrong, another voice broke into the frequency. "General Garza identified." It was male, Jorgan could tell that much, even though it was heavily modified. "Havoc Squad identified."

The fur on the back of Jorgan's neck stood on end just as Fynta swore. "Shab, get down!" She grabbed his pauldron, toppling them both to the ground.

"I know what we did," the voice continued. "Fort Klemark. Two hundred dead." Jorgan propped on his elbows to look down his sight, searching for any indication of their target.

A man stepped out of the foliage not more than six meters from them. "Do it, Havoc," Corovani pleaded. He had once been human, with dark skin now mottled with metallic implants that made him appear grotesque instead of intimidating. However, the massive cannon in his hands looked powerful enough to cut a man in half.

Jorgan saw Fynta push slowly to her feet. He made a grab for her leg plate without losing sight of his target, but she shook him off. "Maybe we can get you some help," she replied, one hand held out towards Jorgan in a silent command to stay down. The Cathar snarled, his finger twitching on the trigger. He hated it when Fynta pulled stunts like this. No matter how guilty she felt over the deaths of the rest of Eclipse Squad, the man remained a threat.

"You freed my team from the nightmare." Corovani's gauntlet creaked as his fingers tightened on the cannon's handle. "Now, free what's left of me." The man opened fire with a wide, arching spread, and Jorgan knocked Fynta's feet out from under her.

The major grunted when she hit the ground, and Jorgan's stomach twisted with the all too familiar fear that she'd been seriously injured again. When Fynta growled a curse, he breathed a sigh of relief; it only lasted a moment.

Jorgan crawled on his stomach closer to Fynta. "We don't have a choice, Major," he warned, then softened his tone. "I'll do it, give me the last RPG."

"No," Fynta argued. "It should be me."

They'd decided that the best way to take down a self-repairing adversary would be with total fragmentation. It had been a long, messy day, and both Havoc soldiers felt raw around the edges. They only had one more grenade left, but Jorgan didn't argue. He knew his wife always did what was needed, eventually.

"Cover me." Jorgan sighted up and began laying down cover fire while Fynta situated the rocket in the attached barrel. She rose to one knee, shouldered the weapon, and took a deep breath. "Rest well, Corovani." The RPG left a trail of smoke in its wake, and the resulting pressure wave threw Fynta onto her ass.

The major clambered back to her feet and stared at the broken body. Jorgan followed as Fynta stomped towards the carnage. She squatted and dug around, coming up with the soldier's ID tags. As gently as possible, Fynta tucked them into the pouch on her belt where she'd stored the others and washed her gloves in the stream.

"Objective complete, General," Fynta reported, her voice held a deadly note that Garza couldn't have missed. Jorgan put a hand on her shoulder as she stood, shaking the drops off more violently than was necessary. Garza didn't respond, and the two started back towards Raider's Cove.

**Raider's Cove  
** **Safe House**

Fynta staggered into the alleyway in a state of numb awareness. She'd thrown the ID tags in Garza's face and demanded that the woman turn herself over to the Senate. Fynta warned the general that Havoc Squad was finished cleaning up her messes. Thankfully, Jorgan backed Fynta's claim that the squad would testify against her if she failed to comply. Fynta would gladly slap the shock cuffs on herself. The meeting had ended in an icy truce, and she couldn't care less what happened to the old woman. Garza had manipulated Havoc Squad, lied, and covered up all of her failings from the beginning. Fynta had seen enough.

Once inside the dilapidated shelter, Fynta activated her comms. "Dorne, we're exhausted. Jorgan and I are going to grab a couple of hours of sleep." She paused, then ground her teeth. "Keep Theron away from me for the time being." The more she'd considered Jorgan's theory, the more sense it made. Garza was a viable inlet into the government that Theron had sworn his life to. He wouldn't let opportunity like that pass him by.

" _Understood, sir. I'll have Balic ensure you're not disturbed."_

Fynta smiled, knowing that Elara wouldn't pry for information about where they'd been or what had transpired. If anything interesting happened on this end, Dorne would have mentioned something. Theron kept quiet as well, which to Fynta, sounded a lot like guilt.

Jorgan led the way to the room where Verin and Cinlat had been held. He shut the door behind them and pulled Fynta against his chest. Every time she shut her eyes, one of the Eclipse Squad members flashed before her eyes, grotesque bodies lying in shattered pieces. Having Aric's arms around her helped drive the images away. He took a deep breath, then kissed the top of her head. Neither had ever been particularly good at expressing themselves verbally, but their actions spoke volumes. They were in this together.

The two collapsed wordlessly onto the cots, but neither found sleep. Jorgan's attempts to get comfortable on the too small bed were accented with grumbles. Fynta was fairly certain there had been some pining for the bed at home too. She gave up on sleep sooner than Aric, deciding to check her messages.

Fynta held the datapad above her head, elbows propped to either side of her waist. Someone who'd watched her battle with one of the locals felt that he could help _untarnish_ her reputation for a reasonable price and the use of her sonic shower. "Fat chance," she snorted. It was signed by Tyfor Renadal, Renadal Consulting. "Poor or'dinii."

Jorgan rolled over with a huff. "Who?"

Fynta waved the datapad at her husband with one hand. "Someone wants to help me rebuild my rep here on Rishi, as the nice girl." She laughed. "I wonder how he got my inbox." Smugglers and criminals had their ways, so it really didn't bother the major that much. This was her public box, after all.

The next letter caught Fynta's attention immediately, and she grinned as she read over the fiery demands for Theron's whereabouts from a Twi'lek named Teff'ith. She'd become the agent's side project to save the galaxy one Twi'lek at a time, and was apparently still pissed at him for reasons Theron would never go into. Had they not been trying to take down a super Jedi hell-bent on destroying the galaxy, Fynta would have gladly divulged Theron's location. She'd be sure to find a reason to stick around until the Twi'lek arrived just to watch the show.

A girlfriend of one of the slaves that Havoc had liberated from the Nova Blade island had sent a letter as well, but the last message made Fynta's blood run cold.

_From: Maj. Nol Corovani—Monarch  
_ _Subject: Well Fought_

_Your destruction of our communications grid relays will delay this message somewhat—if all goes as it should, I will be dead by the time you receive it._

_Simple text communication is one of the few systems embedded in my implants that I can still occasionally gain control of. You and I are fighting right now, as I compose this. Seeing you firsthand, I understand Garza's obsession with a follow-up._

_I wish I could stop my hands, stop trying to kill you. I'm not in control anymore. I haven't been for far too long. I don't know if you will feel guilt in stopping us. Please don't. I'm just a ghost, trapped in a cage shaped like my body. You are destroying that cage, Major. Setting me free. We made the right choice in coming here._

_Thank you._

Fynta didn't realize how tightly she held the datapad until Aric tried to pry it from her hands. "Fynta, what's wrong?" She made her fingers relax, forcing her eyes to her husband's face instead of the words on the screen.

"Fierfek," Fynta breathed, finally letting go of the device so that Jorgan could read the message. Garza had implanted the untested tech into those soldiers because she wanted to duplicate Havoc's success record after they'd been outed to the public. The woman admitted to being desperate, but it made this whole shabla mess worse that Eclipse squad _knew_ that's all they were to their commanding officer. Garza should have protected her men, not experimented on them.

"Blasted woman," the Cathar hissed, leaning forward to re-read the message. For once, his gripe wasn't aimed at Fynta.

"They weren't here for the Revanites, Aric." Fynta sat up to put herself even with him. Sleep was out of the question now. "They were looking for us."

Jorgan sighed and plopped the datapad on the bed next to Fynta's leg, then rubbed his face with both hands. "Sounds like it, doesn't it?" With a sigh, he glanced at the door, patting her thigh. "Come on, we aren't getting anything accomplished in here. Time to get back to work." Fynta stood and stretched, deciding she could use the distraction. Hunting down Revanite wackjobs was preferable to killing fellow soldiers.

In the main command room, Fynta found her brother leaning over the holotable. Verin motioned for her to join them. "Looks like Jakarro came through with the surveillance." He pointed to a newly filled in portion of the map. "Torch's place."

Fynta studied the massive island. The main compound nestled at the base of a volcano, everything else hidden inside. "Hey look, Jorgan. I'm feeling nostalgic."

Aric appeared at Fynta's side, then folded his arms with a snort. "Great, because the last volcano fortress you stormed ended so well." She smirked. Fynta honestly didn't remember much from her first mission with Havoc Squad. She'd done a lot of stupid things to get the job done, and had been heavily medicated by the time they finally found out that Tavus and the rest were traitors. The first clear memory she had was waking up on General Vander's shuttle with her armor in tatters, covered in fresh bandages.

"It shouldn't surprise me that you have experience with this sort of thing," Lana commented with that ever present half smile. Fynta still couldn't figure the woman out. Was she Sith, Jedi, or somewhere in between? Or maybe it was all a ruse, and everyone would be shocked by her true nature once the truce ended.

"We need to move on this fast; they'll have spotted the mapping remote. We're likely walking into a trap," Cinlat commented from across the table.

Lana nodded, then waved for a datapad from Zolah. "Jakarro has commandeered transport." The Sith tapped on the device, then held it out to Fynta to display a beat up looking shuttle and coordinates of where to find it. "Whenever you're ready, Major."

Fynta glanced around the room, finally figuring out what was missing. "Where is Theron?"

"Supply run," Elara answered. "He'll return after you've left, I'm afraid. Would you like to leave a message for him, sir?" Fynta met the medic's meaningful stare, but it was Cormac's idiotic grin that told the major everything she needed to know. Dorne had shoved Theron out of his own safe house and warned him not to return until Fynta was off premise. The fact that the stubborn SIS agent complied spoke volumes about Elara's prowess with threats.

"Let's get going then." Jorgan headed towards the room to grab his helmet, but Cinlat intercepted him.

"You're not coming this time, Aric." Fynta's attention snapped up as Jorgan put his hands on his hips. Anger flashed in the Cathar's eyes, and Verin's hand moved to the grip of his blaster. If the wrong words were spoken, it would end in bloodshed.

For a moment, Jorgan seemed speechless as everyone looked on. It didn't last long. "It's my job to protect the major," he snarled. "I'm going."

"Not a chance." Cinlat stood her ground, crossing thin arms across her chest and appearing completely nonplussed. "You're Cathar, there is no way I'm letting you anywhere near that island." Fynta prepared herself to intercept Verin should he make a move. The silence in the room became deafening as Cathar and bounty hunter stared one another down.

Finally, without taking his eyes off Cinlat, Jorgan spoke. "Fynta, a word?" She met Verin's narrowed eyes before following Jorgan outside. He took a few deep breaths, then rounded on her. "Are you commanding this mission, or Cinlat?"

Fynta bristled at Aric's insinuation. She met his glare with barely contained animosity. "Do you want to try that again, soldier?"

Jorgan held his hands out to the side. "Where is your head, Fynta?" After everything they'd been through together, he had the audacity to ask if she was still all in on the mission. This kind of public outburst was uncharacteristic for the Cathar. At least, out of range of Balkar, that is.

Fynta answered his accusation with a question of her own. "What's with you?"

"I'm a soldier in _your_ squad. _Your_ second in command, and I'm going to that island with you." Jorgan crossed his arms as if the matter were settled.

Fynta pinched the bridge of her nose. This was the last thing she needed right now. Taking a deep breath to ensure that she kept her cool, she prepared herself for a fight. "No, you're not. Cinlat's right about-"

Jorgan broke in before Fynta could finish her sentence. "So, I'm taking orders from bounty hunters now?" When Fynta crossed her arms, Jorgan snorted. "I just need to make sure I know who to _yessir_ , that's all." The venom in his words surprised Fynta, and she pushed back.

"You take your orders from me, _Captain_. And, my order is that you are staying here this time. End of discussion."

Jorgan threw his hands up and began pacing. When he'd collected his thoughts, he returned, not quite yelling, more, emphatically whispering. "I'm not letting my wife storm another fortress without backup. Give me one reason why I should stay behind, and make it a damn good one."

"Because, Cinlat. Is. Right." Fynta enunciated each word, wondering what had gotten into her husband. "They are _real_ Mandalorians, Aric. Still immersed in the lifestyle." Fynta waved her hand in the vague direction of Torch's island. "These aren't washouts and bounty hunters, and it would put a target on your back. They'd see a Cathar warrior, not a potential ally." Jorgan snorted again, but Fynta didn't give him the opportunity to argue. "Not even Cormac's Mando'a is good enough to pass for authentic. It has to be the three of us."

Jorgan's nostrils flared as he loomed over Fynta. She could see the thoughts racing behind his eyes, the worry that she was slipping into being more Mando pirate than Republic officer. At last, Aric inhaled, letting it out in one, long breath. "Fine." It was a concession more than an agreement, but Fynta would take whatever she could get. His eyes softened slightly as he looked into hers, even if his tone didn't. "But, I'll be watching."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod? [Koh-PAH-nee MEERSH-moo-RAY-shay, vohd?] Are you looking for a smack in the face, brother?
> 
> Ne'johaa! [Neh-JOH-hah] Shut up!
> 
> Vor entye [vor-ENT-yay] Thank you (lit. I accept a debt)
> 
> or'dinii [Ohr-DEE-nee] fool
> 
> shabla [SHAH-bla] screwed up


	47. Trials

_**Ord Mantell** _   
_**Fort Garrick  
** **Four Years Ago**_

_Jorgan stared at the five screens without actually seeing any of the scenery that zipped past. He couldn't lose this bomb, not along with the entire Havoc Squad. Aric had faith in Sergeant Wolfe, she'd more than earned it, but she was so young. He'd given a speech to fire her and his men up so they could pull off the impossible, but the best the Cathar could hope for was that Wolfe would broadcast the kill code before being gunned down. Jorgan didn't relish watching it happen, but he couldn't leave her completely alone._ Damn it, I should have scrounged together some backup. _Except, this mission was top secret, and that came with a lot of red tape. Aric exhaled and leaned against the console. Fynta Wolfe had to go in alone._

_Tavus had introduced the sergeant as an expert in tactical assault and infiltration. She needed to live up to those words. Jorgan had asked Wolfe to keep in constant contact. Since they were flying blind, he couldn't afford to be out of the loop for even a moment. Unfortunately, that also meant Aric would be privy to her final breaths._

_The image on Jorgan's screen shook, ground rumbling as the volcano hideout became unstable. The Cathar twisted several dials in an attempt to tune out the background noise. He needed to hear any valuable information that the targets might let slip. Satisfied with the ambience, he corrected the volume of his headset._

_Choosing to wear an ear bead wasn't something Aric did often. More than once, his technicians had picked out a sound that he'd missed. However, when death was all but certain, he chose to honor the soldier's privacy. No one needed a room full of peers hearing him or her calling for their mother, or begging for the pain to stop. That was no way to be remembered. A few of the soldiers glanced in Aric's direction. They knew what the privacy meant, and it made for a somber atmosphere in the mission room. Most of them found the young woman entertaining, even likable._

_Jorgan pushed the screen mapping Sergeant Wolfe's vitals to the top right hand corner so he could watch them. They were all over the place: heart rate level, hormones at peak, but the amount of dopamine in her blood was higher than he would have liked. The effects of the medicine that the med droid had given her shouldn't be wearing off so soon. Unless the sergeant was more injured than previously diagnosed. Jorgan resisted the urge to ask how she was holding up._

_Rocks tumbled across Wolfe's path, shaking the camera again, but the woman managed to keep her balance. Jorgan noted the exposed pipes running the length of the ceiling as she descended deeper into the mountain. It looked like the Separatists were syphoning off the volcano's natural methane to power their equipment, which explained why it had become volatile._

_The heat rose in visible waves. Another glance at the vitals showed that Wolfe's heart rate had begun to rise._ She must be baking in that armor _. The stuff Jorgan had scrounged together after the convoy bombing wasn't climate controlled. The sergeant hadn't complained, though, and he respected that._

_The tunnels opened into a cavernous room with rock bridges built over open magma. "Whoa," Sergeant Wolfe's voice echoed over Jorgan's earpiece. She sounded calm as she traversed the precarious walkways over the boiling rock towards the offices above. Wolfe stopped outside the door of a large room that looked to be the communications hub. Men in grey and red uniforms leaned over each console, chattering away on their headsets._

" _Easy does it." Jorgan muttered, suddenly realizing how close he'd moved to the screen. Three men fell in rapid succession before the others opened fire. From his view, Aric saw another two drop, then the camera jerked violently, and the sergeant's heart rate spiked. She'd been hit._

_Jorgan held his breath until he saw movement again. Wolfe got off a quick burst before being jostled. If Jorgan had to guess, he'd say she was locked in hand to hand combat. A man in an Imperial uniform flipped into view from somewhere behind her, and she shot him point blank. The sergeant's heart rate remained erratic, and Aric's gut clenched when her hand came into view covered in blood_ _._ This is it, _he thought, the inevitable moment._

" _Hold it together," Jorgan murmured to the screen as Wolfe inserted the data spike into the computer system. He listened to the soldier's panting, trying to determine whether her wheezing was from a serious wound or exhaustion. A few more buttons later, and the technicians confirmed that the kill signal had been broadcast._

_Jorgan leaped over the railing and ran to the holoterminal to dial the sergeant's signal. He needed to see her, to get an idea of how bad things were. The life sized image of the blond appeared, and Jorgan sagged in relief when he saw that the blood was from the same shoulder she'd injured earlier. "You did it, Sergeant! That was some top-notch soldiering, we're all proud of you."_ She survived, _he thought. The damn woman was unstoppable._

_When Wolfe answered, her tone came back incredulous. "I encountered Imperial soldiers guarding the bomb."_

" _Copy that, we saw them through your armor-cam. Unbelievable," Jorgan almost laughed. The sergeant had stood up to Tavus on Aric's behalf when he mentioned the possibility of outside help. If he weren't concerned about the Havoc Squad commander's wellbeing, Jorgan would have been preparing his_ I told youso _speech. The Cathar decided in that moment to disregard his earlier suspicions of her loyalty. Wherever Fynta Wolfe was from, she was a Republic commando._

"Come on, riduur, I've seen Jawas fight harder!" Jos's taunting pulled Jorgan from his past. Cinlat and Verin were locked in combat with another set of married psychopaths. Cormac flinched every time one of them shouted an insult at the other, which struck Jorgan as odd given the man's relationship with Vik. Maybe it had more to do with the fact that they were married. The Cathar couldn't imagine Cormac saying any of those things to Elara.

Anger continued to roil in Jorgan's gut. He should be with Fynta, making sure that she didn't do anything stupid. His annoyance had brought on old memories that Jorgan wished would stay buried. Sending Fynta into that Volcano to take out the ZR-57 alone remained one of his biggest regrets. The fact that it had been the only option at the time did little to assuage his guilt. What if she'd been killed, or wounded beyond the ability to escape under her own power? Jorgan's life would be completely different. He would have never had the opportunity to fall in love. The galaxy would have suffered too. Fynta had a way of making huge impacts with the smallest decisions, and she never realized it.

Jorgan watched the battle rage on, focusing on the small figure in the far corner. Fynta leaned against the wall, watching her brother and Cinlat take on Torch's best. So far, the trio had battled wild beasts, ambushes, and the jungle. That all came after being shot out of the sky, of course. Jorgan had no reason to doubt their ability to watch Fynta's back. His anger was unfounded, he should be grateful that Cinlat had his best interests in mind. But, Jorgan couldn't shake the fear that something bad loomed on the horizon.

**Torch's Island  
** **Battle Arena**

Jos Beroya's helmet skidded across the platform, and Fynta stopped it with her foot. "About time," she grumbled. It had been a long battle, during which she fumed over Aric's blatant accusations. She hated leaving in the middle of a fight, especially when the odds were stacked against them. Neither Aric nor Fynta had spoken over the comms, but they couldn't, the lines were open. Fynta sank into her irritation and hoped that she got the opportunity to kick the osik out of something soon.

As of the last check in, Theron still hadn't returned from his supply run. Zolah eventually excused herself to find him; that was over an hour ago. The man was a nuisance sometimes, but Fynta had known him for years. If he managed to get himself in trouble, then she'd get him out of it. _Again_. It's what they'd always done.

"Gotta' hand it to you, that was something," Torch commented over the loud speakers positioned around the compound. Fynta pushed her concerns to the back of her mind and focused on the present. "I think it's time we met."

"I don't like this," Jorgan grumbled in Fynta's ear as she strode over the lightbridge. He'd made good on his promise, having taken control of the surveillance console in Theron's absence. He wasn't likely to give it up any time soon. "She could be leading you into a trap."

Breaking their mutual silence was a tricky thing when others were listening in. "That's not the way we work," Fynta responded a little too tersely. Of course, they had no idea if Torch's people were affiliated with Death Watch, which was exactly the kind of thing _they_ would do. Fynta kept that to herself, though. "Have a little faith, Captain," she repeated, smoothing her tone this time. If Fynta were heading to her death, she didn't want anger to be the last thing Aric heard in her voice.

The hall opened into a circular room with holos of all the creatures kept on the island. There were a lot more images than what the trio had seen, and Fynta hoped it stayed that way. The path ended in what could only be described as a furnace. She stood in the heart of the volcano, the whole room nothing but fire and grates. No doubt the molten rock lay much further down, but Fynta guessed that human skin couldn't withstand the heat spikes registering on her HUD.

"I was wrong," Jorgan commented with a growl. "This is much worse than Ord Mantell."

A figure approached, barely visible through the flames. Steadily, the floor closed up, panels appearing from nowhere to spread across the room and shut out the flame. The heat index dropped drastically as a woman in dark armor stalked closer. Fynta almost applauded the amount of dramatic flair that went into that entrance.

The panels in front of Fynta started to fan out too, so she took it as a cue to meet the woman half way. She probably didn't cut as nearly as impressive of a figure, but she'd always been better at letter her actions speak for themselves. When they both reached the center of the room, the woman reached up to remove her helmet.

"I take it you're the one they call Torch," Fynta speculated, pulling her helmet free to look her adversary in the eye.

"Shae Vizla," the woman replied. The name struck home instantly. This was the woman who'd infiltrated Coruscant for the Sith. The Empire owed their success in the sacking of Coruscant to Vizla when she opened up a route straight into the Jedi temple. The Mandalorian legend was older than Fynta expected, with a well lined face and a mane of bright red hair. It took every ounce of training Fynta had to keep from fawning. Jorgan, on the other hand, snarled. He was old enough to remember the damage in a way that Fynta could never quite understand. She hadn't cared about some far away city planet back then, only survival had mattered.

"The locals came up with that little nickname." Vizla activated the blowtorch on her left forearm, spouting off a column of flame less than a meter from Fynta's boot. "Hell if I know why."

Fynta glanced at the pillar of fire, resisting the urge to shy away. "You recently had a falling out with the Revanites and the Nova Blades. My _organization_ could use your help." Vizla would eat her alive at the first sign of weakness. It wasn't just about physical well-being, though. Fynta would hate to disappoint her childhood hero.

Vizla laughed. "I bet you could." She spun on her heel, turning her back on an adversary in a show of dominance. "Tell you what: instead of whatever grand gesture of cooperation you thought might happen here, why don't we try something a little different." Fynta slipped her helmet back on; she knew where this was going. "It's been awhile since I had a decent challenge. I'm taking this opportunity to show my clan how it's done. The male in your group, he's got a mighty fine saber, how about it, evaar'la solus?"

"Fine by me," Fynta responded as the sound of metal scraping across metal brought her attention around.

Verin's beskad bumped into Fynta's foot, and he nodded when she looked back at him. "Pirunir sur'haaise, vod'ika."

Vizla smiled and pulled her helmet back on. "Let's go."

The floor panels beneath Fynta's feet vanished when her fingers curled around the hilt of the ancient blade. Vizla shot up in a spiral of exhaust and flame while Fynta dove to one side, coming to her feet as Shae slammed back to the ground. The woman produced her own saber that hummed with electricity. Having taken Force lightning at close range, Fynta knew her armor was insulated against the current, but the sound sent shivers down her spine.

Fynta dropped low and attacked with an upward cut, then pivoted when Vizla blocked in an attempt to get behind the older warrior. "Nice try," the woman laughed, spinning to intercept Fynta's path. "But, you'll have to do better."

Fynta dipped her shoulder and rammed it into Vizla's stomach. Even through the armor, she heard the grunt as they hit the metal floor. Fynta managed pin Vizla's arms with her knees, but the woman bucked her hips and ignited the flame thrower. At such close proximity to Fynta's leg, not even beskar could protect from that kind of heat. The major staggered away from the threat, hefting her brother's blade in front of her.

"Not bad," Shae complemented. "But, this isn't over yet." The jetpack roared to life in a sudden burst of flame, propelling Vizla into the air again.

Fynta threw caution to the wind and launched herself after the woman, just managing to grab her boot. Growling from the strain of dangling so much weight, Fynta swung her saber as hard as she could. The beskad connected with the gas line on Vizla's jetpack, a lucky shot before Fynta had to let go or risk dislocating her shoulder.

Flame erupted from the side of the device, and the emergency shut off protocols kicked in, deactivating the system before it could explode. Shae tumbled two meters onto the floor plates with nothing more than a grunt. "Jate, jate." She shed the now worthless machine in record time and clapped her hands.

Vizla sauntered, more than circled, as if she were teaching a class. She dropped into a fighting crouch. "Nar dralshy'a," she called, helmet angled towards the major.

Fynta needed to upend the woman in a way that would end the fight without bringing the wrath of the entire compound down on them. She couldn't kill Vizla, which meant her attacks were limited. Movement caught Fynta's attention over her adversaries shoulder, the control panel at the back of the room. The forming idea probably would have made Aric cringe.

Closing the space between them, Fynta faked another tackle, then hit Vizla in the shoulder to unsteady her. In the same movement, the major dropped down and swept her prosthetic leg out. She knew it had enough power to take the Mandalorian off her feet. Shae tipped backwards, landing on her back with a curse.

Fynta scrambled to her feet to dart across the floor. Vizla gave chase, slamming into the major as she reached the console. The impact propelled them both into it, and the control panel erupted in a shower of sparks. Fynta kicked Vizla away as the tiles started grinding together in random patterns. The whole floor shook while it shifted, opening some parts to the flames below, while smashing others closed. This wasn't exactly the plan, but Fynta could work with it.

With Shae's jetpack out of action, they were on level footing. Fynta ran for the woman, hopscotching from one panel to another, never staying in one place longer than she needed to get to the next. Vizla looked around, trying to work out the new floor arrangements. Fynta lunged, catching Shae under the chin, one of the few spots in beskar'gam still vulnerable to blunt force trauma. Vizla staggered back and swung wildly, but Fynta ducked out of the way. She came up behind Shae and gave a solid kick to the kidney. When Vizla stumbled, Fynta tackled her.

The two women grappled until the last floor panel closed. Fynta looked up in time to see one of Shae's people half buried inside the console while the others pointed at the fighters. Vizla took advantage of Fynta's distraction and brought a fist up under her jaw. The major rolled away, dazed, and decided she was glad that the floor was fixed.

"Not-bad," Vizla gasped, pushing up to her knees. Fynta groaned as she rolled onto all fours, getting it out of her system before she removed her helmet. "Not bad at all. Been awhile since someone's given me a fight like that. You should be proud. Mandokarla."

Fynta bulldozed past the complement. Now that she had Shae's attention, she needed answers. Theron was still unaccounted for; Fynta needed to get back to the safe house to figure out why. With hands on hips, the major looked her hero in the eye. "You set the Nova Blades up with the Revanites. I need to know what they are up to."

**Revanite Valley Stronghold  
** **Command Center**

Seventeen hours in enemy captivity. Theron hadn't been idle, but he wasn't sure he believed what he'd learned. Whenever Revan appeared on the holo, Theron had been given food and drink for his interview. His hands were free during these chats, but his legs stayed shackled to the floor. So far, the conversations only lasted about an hour at a time and mostly consisted of the rantings of a madman. When they were over, Theron was whisked back to his private suite to be hooked up to _reasoned with_ again. _They could at least leave the port in_ , he grumbled silently. Maybe that was part of the torture, being re-stuck each time. Theron hated needles.

The pain built slowly over time as Theron's captors increased the drugs running through the IV. The SIS agent worked his jaw, feeling the way his torn cheek pulled. Even with his hands strapped to the table, Theron knew that the skin around his implants was inflamed from those damn clamps. These idiots clearly had no experience working with finer technologies.

An escape plan was in the works, figuratively speaking. If Theron waited until the twenty-seven hour mark before making his move, maybe he could learn enough to hammer out the details and stop whatever Revan had planned. That was, if Fynta didn't blow the place to hell first. Theron knew the major would come for him; Fynta always did. He could only hope that he gathered enough intel before she made her entrance.

The door opened, and Cleaver strolled in whistling. Theron groaned, rolling his head against the table. The aptly named bruiser stood as tall as a rancor and felt solid every time his fist connected with the agent's torso. Another man entered behind Cleaver, this one wiry and covered with age spots.

"Good to see you're awake," the old man said. Theron watched him warily, preferring to spend time with the brute than the mad scientist.

The older man checked Theron's wires and IVs, then hummed in thought before cranking the dial again. Liquid fire shot up the SIS agent's arm, and he ground his teeth to avoid shouting. "Yes, I believe that will do for now." Without another word, the old man exited the room.

Cleaver palmed the door shut, cracking his knuckles when he turned back towards Theron. "Now, about those friends of yours."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> evaar'la solus [ee-VAR-la SOH-loos] young one
> 
> pirunir sur'haaise vod'ika [PEER-oo-NEER soor-HIE-say] make her eyes water, little sister
> 
> jate [JAH-tay] good
> 
> Nar dralshy'a [NAR-drahl-SHEE-ya] Try harder!
> 
> mandokarla [MAN-doh-KAR-lah] having the right stuff, showing guts and spirit, the state of being the epitome of Mando virtue


	48. Mutually Compromised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone learns something interesting about everyone else. They just aren’t sure what to do with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all my lovely readers. I just wanted to thank you all for the comments and PMs. I'm currently taking place in a creativity challenge on Tumblr, which will involve daily drabbles, and a brand new story at the end of the month. The drabbles can be found in my series, A Matter of Perspective, or you can find me on Tumblr under Cinlat. Due to this challenge, updates to this story might slow down a bit. But, don't worry, I should be back to regular posting in July. Anyway, hope you all enjoy this chapter. I may have been watching Indiana Jones while writing. I'm sure you can figure out the rest. :D

**Revanite Valley Stronghold  
** **Abandoned Republic Camp**

" _You got them yet? Because I can't hover like this all day, Bug Boy._ " Theron hung between Vik and Cormac, stores of adrenaline nearly depleted. He'd heard the alarms and taken his chance to act, but not before being dosed with some new concoction that packed a hell of a hit. He'd been running on fumes by the time Havoc Squad blasted their way through the compound. The brief satisfaction that Theron experienced at seeing Fynta's surprise that he'd made it so far on his own evaporated in the wake of exhaustion.

" _Get those pansies on board, will ya?_ " Theron heard the sound of engines, but it took a few more seconds than it should have to realize that Fynta and Jorgan had their rifles aimed skyward. A man in a long coat stood on the lowered docking ramp of a ship, waving them aboard.

" _Major, those are my people. They have come to extract your team."_ Zolah interjected through the chatter. Her voice rang clearer than the others, and Theron focused on it to pull himself together. _"You must trust them, Fynta. Your position is about to be overrun."_

In a moment of clarity, Theron smirked. "I knew you had people here somewhere." He'd meant it as a silent affirmation that the Chiss agent hadn't pulled anything over on him. He didn't realize that he'd said it out loud until Fynta snapped around to glare at him. Theron recognized her expression as she searched his face, weighing the odds. He fully intended to tell her that he was fine, but his words came out as a glob of red spittle.

Fynta scowled, and Theron thought she looked older like that. It was a stupid thing to notice while barely managing to stay conscious in the middle of Revanite territory, but it seemed immensely important too. "You heard the lady," Fynta finally responded. "Everyone in."

Theron only remembered brief snatches of the trip back to the Rishi village. A man with angular features and solid, black eyes took turns with Lieutenant Dorne looming over him. A lot of Mando'a swearing stood out, and not just from Fynta, but another female that Theron didn't recognize. Then, they were back at the safe house. Except, it wasn't the safe house he remembered.

It had taken the better part of an hour, and dozens of tests, before Dorne finally stopped fussing over Theron. His implants had done a full systems reboot, not pleasant in the slightest, and injected nanite scrubbers to remove the toxins from his blood. Cognitively, Theron felt much better. Physically, he felt like bantha dwang.

Zolah edged closer after the medic departed, resting her fingertips against Theron's temple. He flinched from her touch. "I've got something for that," she commented, nodding towards his implants.

"I hoped you would." Theron's reply came out more as a sigh than anything else. He was exhausted and in pain, and now Zolah had added new pieces to the board. People that he didn't know and had been too jacked up to get a read on.

Zolah retrieved a small kit from the man, and Theron realized that he hadn't been hallucinating, those eyes really were black. The two shared a few quiet words, and the stranger excused himself. Alone again, Zolah set the bag down in front of Theron. He dug inside to find the delicate tools he needed and a special pack of kolto that mixed with a synthetic lubricant to nullify any static charge.

"Don't forget this," the Chiss smiled pleasantly, holding up a mirror. "Unless you want me to help?"

"You're cute," Theron chuckled as he plucked the mirror from her fingers. "But, I don't think I want an Imperial Intelligence agent messing with my head."

Zolah settled onto a stool across from Theron to watch. He propped the shatterproof glass between two toggles on the console and leaned in to smear the gel around his implants before popping the caps off. "So," he began. "Is that who you keep sneaking off to call?"

The Chiss smiled again, showing a hint of teeth. "We live multi-faceted lives. You know that, _Agent_ Shan." It wasn't an answer exactly, but he felt that there was truth hidden in there somewhere.

Theron kept his attention on his reflection while he spoke, watching Zolah's reactions in his peripheral. "Those two showed up pretty quickly." He slid his eyes towards her in a roguish fashion. "Should I feel threatened?"

Zolah smirked and ran her fingers over the back of Theron's neck. He paused with the tip of the pliers at the opening of one of his implants. "No one could replace you, Theron." He cursed the pleasant chill her words sent through him.

The SIS agent lowered the tool and gave Zolah his full attention. "So, I'm not the other man? Because if I had to wager, I'd say that you're sleeping with at least one of them, maybe both."

Zolah propped her chin in her hand and crossed her legs so that her elbow could rest on one knee. "Would you like to be?"

The answer was as expected as it was cliché, but that didn't keep it from working. Theron forced a chuckle to hide his disappointment. "And here I thought we had something special." He went back to the mirror to continue working on his implants.

Zolah moved silently, and Theron nearly jumped when her lips brushed his ear. "As I said, Agent Shan. _Multi-faceted_." When he turned around, Zolah had already left the hut.

Theron took a shaky breath and warned himself to get it together. He wasn't sure which was worse, that he'd let himself be played so obviously, or that he was still considering sleeping with the woman. Zolah had sent her people in to pull Havoc and Theron out when she could have kept them back to observe. Unless she had other plants around Rishi, she'd played her only trump card to save him. Surely he could at least offer some gratitude.

Theron sighed, then plugged his datapad into the terminal to get an idea of what he'd missed while in Revan's company. He started diagnostics for his implants and perused the data that Zolah had collected in his absence. She'd left it open, and as far as he could tell, there were no signs of tampering.

Movement caught the agent's eye, and he glanced at the screen to find Fynta and Captain Jorgan in what looked to be an intense discussion. Theron smirked, knowing that the Cathar didn't stand a chance against the pigheadedness of a Mandalorian. Jorgan took a sudden step forward, driving Fynta back. Implants momentarily forgotten, Theron watched the scene unfold. Checking the location marker showed that they were on the furthest edge of the camp, probably unaware that they were being recorded. Theron had heard that Jorgan wasn't happy about being left behind during the meeting with Torch, and wondered if this was an encore to that argument. He should look away, but Theron had never been good about minding his own business.

The Cathar took another step, and Fynta retreated again. Theron had never seen that woman back down from anything, and wondered if he should be concerned about this behavior. He wouldn't say that he _liked_ Fynta, but they had a long history of saving each other's asses. That formed a bond between people, no matter how volatile.

From the angle of the camera, Theron could see Fynta's face over the captain's shoulder. Jorgan had backed her into a corner, arms outstretched to brace against the tree behind her. The Cathar's hand wrapped Fynta's braid, pulling hard enough to force her head back. Theron leaped to his feet in the same moment that Jorgan pulled the major into a rough kiss.

"Anything good on?" Verin's voice startled Theron from his outrage. The stocky man leaned forward to look at the screen.

"Not sure. Either assault, insubordination, or something worse," Theron hedged, watching the other man's expression carefully. He didn't wear the look of an offended brother. Kiff, that meant he already knew.

Verin chuckled, pushing away from the image as Fynta smiled up at Jorgan. The Cathar leaned in, placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, then turned away with a smirk. Verin flipped the screen off and slapped Theron on the shoulder. "I'm sure everyone would appreciate a heads up on the camera locations."

Theron winced and rubbed his ribs as the bounty hunter clasped his hands behind his back and headed towards the exit. The whole scenario left Theron with a lot of unanswered questions. Not to mention, a little embarrassed that he'd been caught . . . well, spying.

**Rishi Village**

Jorgan left Fynta to handle the organization of the new site. His task was to find out what information Lana had managed to dredge up while they were rescuing Shan. The Cathar smiled, thinking back to the many suggestions Fynta made when she pulled him behind the hut.

The kiss had been impromptu and well worth the risk. Generally speaking, they avoided overt shows of affection in public, but so many days without even a peck on the cheek left Jorgan feeling antsy. He wanted to clear the air between them after their argument about the island. Apologies weren't his strong suit, but Fynta always made them worthwhile. She'd mentioned more than once that making up was the best part of a fight.

As Jorgan rounded the corner, he came across Verin running a whetstone over his blade. "Evening," Jorgan said to ensure he didn't startle the man. The atmosphere was still tense between the bounty hunter and Cathar, but both men made concerted efforts to be natural. Though Cinlat said nothing more about their disagreement, Verin had been clearly offended on her behalf.

"Word of advice, vod?" Verin responded without looking up. Jorgan stopped and crossed his arms, waiting in silence. "When intelligence agents are involved, _always_ assume someone is watching."

Jorgan arched a brow at the man as he stood and walked back towards the main camp. Glancing up, the Cathar caught the barest gleam from a lens and swore. Zolah must have put those up after Havoc left. Jorgan's thoughts turned back to the kiss he'd shared with Fynta, and he swore again. He'd need to find her immediately to warn of the possible complication.

Theron Shan stood outside the main hut, head tipped back and eyes closed as if praying. He looked a little better, his implants weren't as damaged and most of the blood had been washed away. The bruising would be much worse tomorrow, though. Jorgan paused, unsure if it would be rude to interrupt, then decided to squeeze by silently. The SIS agent didn't strike him as the religious type, but Fynta had mentioned that he'd been raised by Jedi, so who knew.

Theron spoke, eyes still closed, when Jorgan drew level with him. "She's trouble, you know."

Jorgan stopped, not quite looking at the man. "Excuse me?" Granted, he knew exactly who Shan was talking about, and didn't bother hiding his irritation. No doubt Verin had put himself in Jorgan's path for this reason, to warn him.

Theron sighed and faced Jorgan. "Look, I get it. Fynta is an unstoppable force and it's a turn on, but she'll destroy you, Captain."

The Cathar met the other man's gaze, fists balled against his legs to keep from decking him. It would be best if he kept his mouth shut. Unfortunately, that meant Theron kept talking. "I've been in your shoes," the man continued, and Jorgan worked to suppress his snarl of anger. "Fynta sees marks, assets. It's how she was trained, how we're _all_ trained. You seem like a decent guy, I just thought-"

"Back off, Shan," Jorgan growled before he could stop himself. He didn't need to hear Shan's assessment of Fynta, or know more about their history together. When Theron started to argue, Jorgan's temper flared, and he bit off each word. "I mean it."

Theron let out a humorless snort. "Look, Captain, I get that you're fucking the major. Who wouldn't? But, I've known her longer, and I'm telling you-"

Jorgan reacted on pure, animal rage. One minute Theron Shan stood in front of him. The next, the SIS agent hit the ground, a cloudy look in his brown eyes when he glared up at the Cathar. Jorgan's knuckles ached from the blow. Later, he might regret hitting a wounded man, but for now, it felt damn good.

Theron opened his mouth and popped his jaw. Jorgan pointed a finger at him, his voice wavering with anger. "You have no idea who Fynta Wolfe is. I won't stand by and listen to you talk about my-the major, like she's some whore. She deserves more respect than that, especially from you."

Jorgan stepped over the stunned agent to continue inside. He'd probably made a massive mistake. Not by hitting Shan, of course, the man had it coming in Jorgan's book, but by reacting at all. No doubt that Theron would start digging, which could raise red flags in other places. Now, Aric had something else to warn Fynta about.

**Command Safe Hut**

"How's the face?" Fynta asked.

Zolah waited outside the tent while the major and Theron shared a quiet conversation. Still, eavesdropping was technically in her job description; he would understand.

Theron snorted. "He told you."

"Like I said, Shan. No secrets in my squad." A veiled threat lingered in the major's words, though Zolah wasn't sure why. _Yet_. Theron offered no reply, so Fynta continued. "This complicates our relationship, you realize that, right?"

Zolah went from mildly interested to riveted in the space of a second. She'd clearly missed something while catching up with Vector. "How _complicated_ are we talking, Fynta? Because it looked pretty damn serious. You do know that you're playing with fire, right?"

"Roughly two years." Silence followed the major's admission. Zolah desperately wished that she could read their body language, whatever was going on sounded important. Not relevant to the mission, per se, but something that could give the Chiss leverage down the road.

"Two years," Theron repeated after a moment. "Kriff. Are you telling me what I think you're telling me?" More silence. Zolah wasn't sure if that meant Fynta trusted Theron enough to answer nonverbally, or if she'd chosen to ignore him. At least, not until Theron spoke again. "Damn, no wonder he was pissed."

Zolah heard movement from inside and stepped deeper into the shadows as the flap pulled back from the doorway. Fynta stopped, still looking inside. "Now, you know. I hope I can count on you."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever." The major didn't move until Theron sighed. "I need to finish slicing the last of these Nova Blade files. They have data on every ship with Revanite infiltrators aboard, so no time for gossip." The major offered a half smile before letting the flap close behind her and heading into the night.

Zolah waited what seemed like an appropriate amount of time to allay suspicion, then ducked in to find Theron precariously perched on a chair in front of the station. His head rested in his hands, and he was definitely not actively hacking into the records. Pity stirred in the Imperial Agent; it was a foreign feeling, one she hadn't felt in a long time. "Is everything alright?"

Despite the fact that Zolah kept her voice low, Theron jumped, gritting his teeth against the pain. Crossing the room to stand directly in front of him, Zolah recognized the evidence of Imperial interrogation. The skin around Theron's implants was inflamed from the chemicals used in an attempt to short circuit them. There were several abrasions across his face, and his bottom lip was swollen. That was only what Zolah could see, no doubt, more injuries lurked beneath.

"You should rest." Generally speaking, Zolah couldn't care less about what happened to people anymore. If they got the information, then it was worth the risk and discomfort. As she gently ran her fingers along the implants that highlighted Theron's left eye, anger tightened her chest.

Theron mimicked the motion, placing his palm on Zolah's cheek, brushing his thumb across the cybernetics that wrapped around the edge of her hairline. Without conscious thought, Zolah leaned forward to brush her lips across his. Theron's hand slid around the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. Her tongue had just touched his when the SIS agent pulled back with a hiss. He released her to dab at his swollen lip. "Ow." Brown eyes met hers, and he sighed. "Damn, I was enjoying that."

Zolah smiled, slipped her arm around Theron's middle, and pulled his wrist across her shoulder. She steered him towards the makeshift med table that Lieutenant Dorne had set up in the back and deposited the SIS agent on it. "I can finish running the encryption program. Rest."

A warm hand closed around Zolah's wrist. "One more . . . for the road?"

Zolah complied with a smile. He obviously needed someone, and she saw no reason why it couldn't be her. "I don't know if you've seen a mirror lately, but you're not exactly pretty anymore." Theron's argument began to build, but Zolah preempted him. "Are there any areas that the Revanites didn't damage?"

Both eyebrows shot up, and Theron winced at the movement. Steadily, he released Zolah's wrist and pointed to his top lip. She bent over him, placing her hands flat on the bed to either side of his shoulders, and brushed a light kiss to his upper lip. The stubble from a couple of days without shaving tickled her skin, and he gasped when she sucked his lip into her mouth. When she pulled back, Theron immediately pointed to his right ear.

"I think they missed this one."

Zolah cupped his chin to ease his head over so that she could repeat the process with his earlobe. Theron's breathing quickened, and his eyes darkened when she looked into them again. He pointed to his neck this time, and Zolah responded by running her tongue over the prickly skin before trailing rough kisses up to his tender jaw, sending a shiver through him.

Zolah caught Theron's hand as he lifted it to request another and brought it to her lips. Starting at the smallest, she kissed each one, before slipping his index finger into her mouth. "Kriff," Theron breathed. Zolah smiled around the digit, flicking at the pad of his finger playfully with her tongue. He shifted, draping his free hand across his lap, and cleared his throat. "Right. I should probably get that rest."

"Of course," Zolah replied, maintaining her amused smile.

Theron studied her for another moment, then heaved a sigh and leaned back. "You'll wake me if you need help?"

"I will." Zolah ran her hand through his hair until he fell asleep, then slipped from the hut to find Lana watching the Republic soldiers converse with Vector. "Where is Kaliyo?" She wondered aloud.

Lana offered a smirk and nodded towards the east. "The same place as Sergeant Vik, I imagine."

Zolah suppressed a shiver of disgust. That was bad even for Kaliyo. She switched tactics in an attempt to distract herself. "Lieutenant Dorne saw to Theron's injuries. They do not appear to be life threatening." Painful, without a doubt, but the SIS agent would survive. In all likelihood, he'd be back to work as soon as he woke.

"Thank you, Zolah," Lana responded, returning her attention to the information streaming to her datapad. Somehow, the Sith had managed to slice into the main feed. Zolah smiled, Theron would be most displeased to learn how far his accidental student had come. "Until Theron is able to return to his tasks, we'll have to muddle through without him. Do you have access to his work?"

Zolah nodded and held a hand out for the datapad. Lana surrendered it without complaint and stood close to the woman's side while she manipulated the data with skilled fingers. "He's nearly cracked the encryption, roughly sixty-seven percent so far." Zolah snorted a surprised laugh. "That's quite good."

"What's this here?" The Chiss agent squinted at the screen where Lana's finger directed.

"It's a jammer. Comms won't work in the upper atmosphere while it's active." A thought struck Zolah, "Theron said that the Empire and Republic were en route, they won't be able to communicate. Chaos will ensue, and Revan will get the battle he desires."

"I guess Havoc has its next target, then." Both women turned to find Major Wolfe leaning against a supply crate, arms crossed. None of Zolah's implants had warned her of a possible intruder. Fynta must have known the maximum radius of her sensors. It was an interesting discovery, one that brokered more thought later. "Think Jakarro can give us a lift?"

Lana clasped her hands in front of her. "Indeed, we must consider that jammer top priority if we are to avoid a slaughter."

Fynta closed the gap between them to look over the Chiss's other shoulder, leaving Zolah pinned between the two women. "Are we talking explosives, or do you want finesse?"

Zolah exchanged a glance with Lana before answering. "Explosives will be fine, finesse would require too much time, and I could use Lieutenant Yuun's aid here while Theron is recovering."

"Right, and I'll leave Dorne as well, she'll no doubt insist on remaining anyway to keep an eye on Shan. That man has hit his head a lot in his lifetime." Fynta typed out a message on her gauntlet screen, no doubt a call to her XO to rally the troops. "Anything else I need to know before we ship out? There isn't a guarantee that comms will work when we close in on the device."

"We'll do our best to keep you apprised of any new intel, Major," Lana answered. "And Theron's condition."

Fynta nodded, then turned on her heel to begin preparations. Zolah excused herself, catching up with the major on a somewhat concealed expanse of the path. "Might I have a word?"

Night had fallen, and the dimly lit Havoc camp was easily visible down the incline. Zolah imagined Fynta's Mandalorian siblings had a spot down there too. The entire group had kept themselves away from the command huts since arriving in the Rishi village. Zolah wasn't sure if that was due to finally having space to spread out, or if they simply didn't want to be that close to Imperials.

The major cast a rueful smile. "You Imps have such a nice way of asking to pry, you know that?"

"Indeed," Zolah returned, matching Fynta's expression. As of yet, she hadn't had a chance to sit and chat with the woman. Vector had suggested it, stating that it might help Zolah find closure that didn't end with putting a bolt through the major's head. Since Fynta Wolfe had proven herself a valuable asset, Zolah was willing to give it a try.

"What can I do for you?" Fynta replied, slowing her pace a little to give them more time before reaching her camp.

Zolah mulled over her words carefully before speaking. "I find your interaction with Lord Beniko and Agent Shan most fascinating."

Tension entered the major's shoulders, but her voice remained calm. "There are pros and cons to both societies, in my opinion. Theron and I have history, much of it . . . well, like this. And, Lana has yet to insult or threaten my squad, so, I see no reason to treat her any differently while we are allies."

"Then you agree that the Empire has some redeeming qualities?" Zolah inquired, keeping her tone neutral.

The woman glanced at Zolah out of the corner of her eye. "Some, yes. What's this about, Cipher?"

Zolah smiled at the use of her title. Fynta knew who she was and most likely what lay within her job description. Most soldiers would have immediately become defensive, but Fynta fished for information while revealing little of her own. Textbook interrogation technique.

The Chiss decided to push a little harder, curious to see what would happen. "If the empire is not completely corrupt, why did you murder General Rakton? He sought only to bring about peace by proving that non-Force users could accomplish the same as Sith. He didn't want bloodshed, but to unite the galaxy."

Fynta stopped completely, facing Zolah with her hands on her hips. "Rakton killed thousands of Republic soldiers, and personally threatened _my_ squad. I will not tolerate those things." The woman's eyes narrowed. "I've killed Sith too, since we're taking count. So, I suppose they are _still_ on equal footing."

Zolah bristled, then silently cursed herself when Fynta's eyebrow rose. Blast, she'd allowed the woman to bait her into showing a reaction. Dropping all precedence, Zolah offered what Kaliyo called her _creepy-ass smile_ , showing a lot of teeth. "Rakton was my mentor. He rescued my mother from slavery and sponsored her entrance into Imperial intelligence. He kept me around: feeding, clothing, and educating me until I was old enough to enter the academy." The Chiss felt an immense amount of pleasure at the look of surprise on Fynta's face, to grind that smug grin into the dirt where it belonged. Zolah took a step forward and lowered her voice. "Had Vector not sabotaged my sights, you'd have died on Manaan."

Fynta reacted faster than Zolah anticipated, pulling her weapon and aiming it at the Chiss's head. Zolah countered, slapping the barrel away and turning to put herself inside Fynta's reach. Her hand struck the pressure point on the inside of the major's elbow, and the weapon fell from numb fingers. Zolah grabbed her own blaster, and to her credit, Fynta disarmed the Chiss in a similar fashion. Zolah ducked Fynta's answering blow to pull a knife from her boot. When the two women clashed again, the Chiss held the point of her blade under Fynta's jaw.

They stared at one another, and Zolah was surprised to see not fear, but determination in her adversary's eyes. She'd missed something. Glancing down, she saw the blade protruding from Fynta's gauntlet, angled against the artery in her groin.

"You're every bit of the rumor," Zolah smiled sweetly. For a moment, she contemplated finishing the job she'd started on Manaan. It wouldn't take much, a quick flick of her elbow. But, then, they'd be back to square one. Fynta Wolfe had a reputation now, she was known on the pirate world. They didn't have time to introduce a new player to the board if they were going to ferret out Revan before thousands died.

With a sigh, Zolah lowered her weapon and took a step back. "Make no mistake, Major. When the truce is over; it is _over_."

Fynta's expression relaxed, and she slapped Zolah on the shoulder. "Good to know." The blade slid back into its housing, and she scooped up her Verpine blaster, tucking it back into the holster.

As the major started down the hill, she called back over her shoulder, "You'll be happy to know that Rakton left a lasting impression." Fynta knocked on her left leg, filling the heavy air with a distinctly metal ring. "To remember him by."

Zolah watched the woman retreat, fighting the urge to aim her blaster at the back of Fynta's head. Truth be told, Zolah had gleaned a lot from their brief exchange. Fynta believed wholeheartedly that she'd made the right decision to end Rakton. The major had taken the admission of the assassination attempt in stride, then played the entire conversation off. It all served to reaffirm that Major Fynta Wolfe had training as an operative. Despite any previous vendettas, the woman really was more useful alive.


	49. Collaboration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking a break from the creativity challenge to wrap up Rishi. This is bittersweet because I love this planet and everything is brings out in my characters. However, the story must move forward.

**Rishi Village  
** **Command Hut**

"I'm fine, Fynta. Dorne, tell her." Theron had both hands on his hips if he wasn't waving them around. The commanders, all of them, stood in a huddle around the SIS agent demanding that he take it easy. When Fynta looked at Elara, the medic shook her head, and the major shoved Theron back inside the hut. Jorgan followed, obviously entertained by the ordeal.

Leaving the tops to sort things out, Cormac ushered Elara further away so that they could have some privacy. Having learned from Fynta, Balic chose a spot that he already knew didn't have surveillance. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes to enjoy the sounds of the night creatures. They stopped on a ridge that offered a small breeze, and Cormac leaned against the tree. Stars filled the sky when he opened his eyes again, and Cormac figured he'd enjoy the view before it changed to blaster fire.

Elara hooked her arm in his. "How long has it been since you've slept?"

"Shab, I don't know." Cormac rubbed a hand down his face. He didn't feel tired, but it had to have been at least twenty-seven hours since he remembered yesterday's sunset too.

"I'm going to have to sedate that man," Elara sighed, switching topics abruptly the way she did to avoid thinking about anything beyond her control. Cormac had a pretty good guess as to what that topic might be as well. He nudged his wife playfully, and she huffed. "He's as stubborn as Fynta. You all are."

Cormac chuckled and slid his arm around Elara's shoulders. Even after all these years, he still found the clacking of their armor funny. It was hard to be sweet and comforting while separated by a layer of beskar, but they made due. Elara sagged against him, and they stared at the night sky together.

Light flashed across the blackness, followed by another. Then all hell broke loose in the upper atmosphere as red and blue bolts blinked with increasing frequency. "Shab." Cormac broke away from his wife and ran back into the hut. He threw open the curtain and whistled to get everyone's attention. "Sorry to interrupt, sirs, but they're early."

Fynta and Jorgan darted from the structure to stare up at the sky. "Damn," Theron swore before looking at the major. "Go! Get that jammer down!" She lifted her gauntlet to her lips to relay orders at a steady jog. Jorgan had his holo out, dialing Verin and Cinlat.

Balic slapped his helmet on and met up with Vik at the armored crawler. The Weequay had boosted it from the Revanites while the rest of them dealt with the Republic and Imperial camps while searching for Theron. Cormac scrambled in and took a seat, using the lull in activity to check over his weapons. "Be safe, Balic," Elara whispered over the headset. Cormac cursed himself for forgetting to tell her bye.

"I'll be home in time for breakfast, doll," Balic promised with as much cheer as he could muster. "Promise."

* * *

Theron paced around the hut. The pain killers Lieutenant Dorne supplied had taken the edge off, but the agent couldn't get his mind to settle. Eventually, his hyperactivity would nullify the meds, and he'd be wincing and gasping again. He watched while Havoc traversed rickety bridges, followed closely by the two Mandalorians. Theron stopped to check the screen displaying the crew's vitals. Jorgan and Cormac's were all over the place, while Vik and Verin's registered with mild spike whenever the wind picked up. Cinlat and Fynta, however. . . .

"Perfectly calm," Zolah commented from beside Theron. He spared the Chiss a glance, wondering when she'd say something about that kiss, or what followed. Vector, a Killik joiner, according to Zolah, stood on the other side watching with interest. The man didn't say much. No theories, opinions, or plans to share, only the sparse whisper with Zolah from time to time. He was the picture of Jedi calm when everyone else yelled over one another. Theron wondered what kind of ties Zolah and Vector shared, and where Kaliyo fit into it all. Those two were clearly her most trusted people, and he begrudged her that fact. Trust was something increasingly more difficult to come by the older he got.

Theron cleared his throat and tapped the screen containing the women's vitals. "Fynta thrives on these situations, and Cinlat trained her."

"Hmm, the bounty hunter and the Mandalorian. It's quite a bedtime story." Zolah chuckled under her breath. They lapsed into silence without remark from Vector, all three watching while Lana worked on a plan to call a ceasefire once the jammer went down.

" _These bridges are prime sniper targets,"_ Jorgan growled over the comms. _"Fynta, think you can make that ridge if I give you a boost?"_

Theron leaned a little closer to the screen, his jaw aching from the memory of the Cathar's right hook. He was fairly certain he hadn't read Fynta's response wrong, though he wasn't sure he _believed_ her. Could it be possible for the spunky Mando to settle down, or had she played to her strengths?

According to his file, Aric Jorgan was the ops commander when Fynta transferred to Havoc. Things had gone south on his watch, and the lieutenant had been demoted and thrown into her squad. Theron hadn't planned for Fynta to inherit the Havoc when he offered her to Garza. She would have been way out of her depth. Jorgan had the reputation and strength that she needed at the time, and Fynta never turned down an advantage. Theron felt bad for the guy. One day, Captain Aric Jorgan would see the truth and realize what a mistake he'd made.

Sergeant Vik chuckled, pulling Theron's attention to the current operation. _"Watch that hand placement, Cap'. Republic Armed Forces Sexual Harassment trials are a bitch."_ Zolah and Vector exchanged a glance that spoke volumes. Theron guessed he shouldn't expect Vector to be any less clever than Zolah.

" _You'd know, wouldn't you,"_ the Cathar grunted as he hefted Fynta onto the outcropping.

Zolah pressed three long fingers against her lips to hide a smile. "They do keep this interesting, don't they?" Theron waited for the questions to start, he'd let his guard down around her one too many times, and needed to remind himself to be vigilant. "It's like having an entire squad of Kaliyos." She turned red eyes on Theron as Vector heaved a sigh. "How do you manage them?"

Theron rolled his eyes when Fynta landed a solid kick to Vik's helmet. "I don't." He leaned over and pressed the comm button. "Jammer, people. Don't forget the reason you're rock climbing."

"Closing in on the target," Fynta answered, waving Cormac through a fenced area. "Sig- breaking up so- Talk in-bit."

Lana joined the intelligence agents just as the line went dead. "I'm sure they'll have the jammer down soon."

Theron ran a hand through his hair and puffed all the air out of his lungs. "I'm going to get something to eat while we wait. I give her," he paused, doing the math, then divided by Fynta's stubbornness. "Twenty minutes."

Theron grabbed a protein pack and flopped down at the table. It was only a mild surprise when Zolah joined him. "May I?"

Theron waved a hand at the seat while he forced down the rations. "You sure he won't mind?" The SIS agent nodded towards Vector. His tone came out more petulant than he'd intended.

"Vector is his own man," Zolah replied, though Theron noticed it wasn't exactly an answer. He considered asking whether or not the two were involved, but he really didn't want to know the answer. Zolah smiled again, white teeth shining against blue skin. "I do what pleases me, as much as he does."

Theron chewed on the ration bar, watching the Imperial across from him. He swallowed, then pointed the wrapper at her. "What _pleases_ you, Agent Holran?"

Zolah leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table and offered a disarming smile. "I rather enjoyed lulling you to sleep." When Theron didn't respond, her grin widened. "I do hope that you weren't so drugged as to not remember our chat."

Mind racing, Theron opened his mouth to buy time to formulate a proper comeback. Yuun saved him from a potentially embarrassing response. The Gand fiddled with the console, then turned to wave Theron over. "That man really is a genius." The SIS agent winked at Zolah, then pushed away from the table to try the comm. He silently thanked the Force for providing such a convenient exit.

"Fynta, can you hear me?" Theron leaned against the terminal to keep from pacing. He needed to deal with this before he could even begin to sort Zolah out.

"Got you, Shan. Yuun fix the equipment?" The woman on the other end laughed, at least someone was enjoying her job. "Cormac's setting the charges now. Let's see if we can get anyone on the line."

**Raider's Cove**  
**Safe House**  
**Conference of Imperial & Republic Personnel**

The room felt crowded until the Grand Master and Darth left with their various escorts. So much Force power in such a confined space always made Zolah nervous. She was adept at hiding these feelings, of course, that was the first thing any intelligence agent must learn when working around Sith was unavoidable. She never enjoyed it, though, and she always felt exhausted after.

Theron had fidgeted throughout the entire meeting, clearly uncomfortable. He'd extended a show of trust by acknowledging that Satele Shan was his mother beforehand, a revelation that surprised both Zolah and Vector. He claimed it was just in case the matter came up, but Zolah wondered if she hadn't finally broken through the agent's outer walls. It must have been horrible having a Jedi as a mother. She couldn't imagine it being a warm environment to grow up in. At least Sith raised their young to follow their passions, even if it occasionally ended in the parent's death.

Several times, Master Satele had opened her mouth to speak to Theron, only to close it again. Theron, for his part, remained hunched over his datapad and pointedly ignored everyone in the room. Zolah had positioned herself between Theron and Major Wolfe to separate him from the comfortable connection he shared with the soldier, making it _her_ presence that he would sense and perhaps gravitate towards.

Naturally, Vector had taken over negotiations. He always knew exactly what to say, navigating the choppy waters with no indication of bias. Zolah knew her husband to be a proud Imperial citizen, but he took his position as diplomat seriously. Vector would never insight strife in any conference that he mediated, and he frowned on men who used the title as a means to political wealth.

In the end, Vector successfully brokered a truce between the head of the Jedi Order and one of the most powerful members of the Dark Council. The man deserved a medal for being willing to even try. Zolah supposed it helped that Vector had recently headed up one of the most unusual alliances to date in the Empire. Still, it was quite a feat, Jedi and Sith working together.

The next step in the plan was to rendezvous on Yavin 4. Theron's time with the Revanites had proven more useful than anyone could have hoped. They now knew Revan's plan and where to find him. There was some discussion over how one would kill an emperor who existed only in a nebulous state. To which Fynta informed the room that she didn't care how much Force nonsense was involved, anyone could be killed. Marr's head had tipped silently, then his team departed for their ship. Theron and Satele exchanged a few curt words before agreeing to leave any other bonding until a later date.

Presently, Jakarro and DeeFour argued over who should clean up the mess, and Fynta stood in the corner on a call with her brother. She didn't bother keeping her voice down, and to Zolah's surprise, acted no differently towards her since their altercation. All in all, Major Wolfe was a peculiar woman. "Right, see you on Yavin, stay out of trouble, ner vod."

"Everything okay?" Theron asked when the major rejoined the huddle. The bounty hunters hadn't come back with the rest of Havoc. Zolah wondered if they'd slipped off world to avoid being pulled further into the battle, but clearly that hypothesis was incorrect.

Fynta nodded. "Cin's a little wary of Sith Lord's. Apparently she managed to piss off a few members of the Dark Council and thought it best if her presence went unnoticed for the time being."

Lana sighed from where she leaned over the holotable, finally looking as exhausted as they all felt. "The conspiracy is finally exposed." She let out an undignified snort of laughter. "We've been hiding our actions from our allies for so long, it's a relief to have everything in the open."

"So we can talk about how you threw me to the wolves, now?" Theron turned his chair from the terminal and crossed his arms. It shouldn't have surprised Zolah that he'd figured it out too. She thought back to the conversation she'd shared with the Sith lord.

_Zolah kept her eyes on the screen when she spoke to Lana. "Did you know?"_

_Lana was Sith; she had worked with Theron for months. Becoming attuned to his signature in the Force would have been as natural as breathing. The alley from which he'd been taken was well within Lana's range, and Jakarro claimed to have been unable to assist when the attack began. Lana would have known that Theron was in trouble, yet she'd said nothing while a room full of soldiers watched Mandalorians battle._

_The woman's bright orange eyes settled on Zolah, forcing her to meet them. A cold prickle ran down the length of Zolah's spine, and her throat constricted ever so slightly. Having grown up on Dromund Kaas, the Chiss knew the feeling of the Dark Side of the Force when she felt it. Lana clearly did not want to discuss the matter further, and she didn't approve of Zolah's overt prying._

_Whereas the initial contact with the Force had come on slowly, its withdrawal was sudden enough to make Zolah gasp. She cleared her throat, returning her eyes to the screen. "My apologies, Lord Beniko."_

Lana rolled her eyes at Theron. "I made a calculated, strategic decision, and it worked, as we can all see now." Fynta and Jorgan hung back while the others prepared their ship. The major took a step closer to Theron, arms crossed, but said nothing.

Theron's face visibly reddened as he pushed to his feet. "And if you'd _talked_ to me about it, I would've volunteered. But you didn't even give me a choice!" Zolah crossed the room to stand on Theron's other side. He offered the Chiss a brief side glance before glaring at Lana again. Zolah couldn't say she'd have made a different choice from Lana's, but the bit of drama gave her a way to wiggle further into Theron's good graces. Her feelings on the matter were inconsequential; she still had a job to do. It was strictly professional.

Theron and Lana continued to argue in louder tones, and eventually, Jakarro joined in, bellowing about seeking revenge. Zolah found it curious that Fynta remained silent, watching the progression with only a single glance at her XO. Finally, Lana silenced them all with a wave of her hand. "You had to be in the dark for the plan to work," the Sith stated. "The ends clearly justified the means. Personal feelings are irrelevant next to that."

Theron opened his mouth to argue, but Fynta cut him off. "We've all thrown our colleagues under the bus for the greater good." The SIS agent shot the major an angry glare that spoke of betrayal. She returned it, her dark blue eyes hard. Fynta still hadn't forgiven Theron for whatever had angered her earlier in the mission. Zolah had tried to piece together any information on where the soldiers had gone during their absence, but Theron refused to comment on it.

Lana put on a pleasant smile and clapped her hands. "I think it's time we moved on. Yavin is a long way from here."

"Agreed," Theron growled as he watched the Sith head for the exit.

Fynta stepped into Lana's path. "A word for the future. If this _alliance_ is to work, it requires honesty. If you pull another stunt like that again, Havoc leaves." Her voice cut through the silence in the room, low and deadly. It was a side of the woman Zolah hadn't seen before.

Lana offered a tight smile. "Of course. I'd expect nothing less." Looking over her shoulder, the Sith called Zolah. "Meet you there?" She nodded, and Lana returned her attention to Fynta. "If you'll excuse me, Major."

Before long all that remained were Zolah, Theron, Vector, and Kaliyo. "We will ready the ship for departure," Vector commented, motioning Kaliyo along. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Agent Shan. We look forward to working with you further." Theron offered a somewhat confused salutation when he looked up from scrambling the computer terminals.

Kaliyo stopped on her way out and leaned closer to Zolah. "I spent some time with that Weequay, he was better than I thought he'd be, but man, have I got some juicy intel for you." The Rattataki winked at Theron, then vanished out the door ahead of Vector.

"Did she just say what I think she did?" Theron asked without looking up. "She ran off with Tanno Vik?"

"I believe so," Zolah responded, picking up her datapad to help wipe all traces of their presence on Rishi. "Kaliyo has always had interesting taste in men . . . and women." Theron chuckled and flopped into a chair with a wince.

The SIS agent looked exhausted, and that was the perfect time to strike. "You could travel with my crew, you know." Theron peeked from between his fingers as he rubbed both hands down his face. "My quarters are quite spacious."

"Looking to continue our conversation from earlier?" The man wore a slight smirk, but Zolah knew the offer had merit.

"Perhaps," the Chiss answered. "No one would mind, me least of all."

Theron sighed when his datapad beeped. "That's the last of it." He stood again, coming close enough to wrap one arm around Zolah's waist. There was a moment of hesitation as he searched her face for the truth behind her words. Theron wanted to know if he meant more than a job to her. Zolah could look him in the eye and lie, telling him everything he wanted to hear. She'd done it countless times before. Yet, just as they had with Vector, the words died on her tongue. Theron pulled her closer and crushed their mouths together with an urgency that told Zolah that part of him didn't care. When they broke apart, he let out a long breath. "Time to go. I'll see you on Yavin."

**The Thunderclap**

Fynta couldn't wait to get her armor off. She nearly missed the status update when Yuun confirmed their destination. "Approximate time in hyperspace, fourteen hours, sir," Yuun declared from the navigation panel at the top of the stairs. She was sure the Gand was tired too, but he vanished onto to bridge without complaint. After days of mucking about in that humidity without so much as a proper shower, Fynta planned to pull rank. She'd make it up to Yuun somehow.

Fynta had just walked into her room to strip off her armor when Cormac ran out of his and Elara's room in nothing but a towel. "Dibs on the shower!" It was nothing new. After living in each other's pockets for a couple of years, there weren't too many surprises left to be had.

"Cover that up!" Vik yelled with a feigned gag. Cormac flexed his muscles, and Vik doubled over as if to vomit. Dorne ignored them all, but Fynta enjoyed the simple pleasures of two guys taunting one another after a long mission. It was a sort of decompression exercise. Everyone made it out alive, so what better way to celebrate than to annoy the osik out of one another?

With a shake of her head, Fynta went back to removing her plates until the sounds of a scuffle grabbed her attention. Vik roared with laughter, and Cormac swore. She poked her head around the corner in time to see Cormac's bare ass as he vanished into the refresher. Across the room, Vik stood with a satisfied grin and a towel in his hand.

Fynta chuckled and pulled back into her room to find Jorgan rolling his shoulders. She shut the door this time, determined to get her armor completely off and slip into more comfortable clothes. "Feels good to have that stuff off." Aric sat on the bed to remove the leg plates, moving a little slower than usual. Fynta hadn't even thought to ask about his knee after the first day on planet and scolded herself for being such an inattentive wife.

There were deep grooves in Fynta's shoulders and hips when she finally managed to peel the rest of her fibermesh bodysuit off. She hadn't been out of that armor in nearly a week, and as much as she loved it, it had a tendency to chafe during extended periods of use. She groaned when the last piece hit the floor, letting her head fall back to enjoy the cool air on her clammy skin.

"That looks painful," Aric commented as he slipped into his PT pants. There were lines in his fur too, but it didn't look like the skin beneath was broken.

Fynta examined the marks on her hips, wincing when she ran a finger over the inflamed area. The left side oozed slightly, the abrasion deeper due to the unforgiving metal beneath her skin. Jorgan stacked his plates neatly in the corner, then moved Fynta's off the bed and motioned for her to sit. She joined him, rolling her head in a slow circle to work the stiffness out of her shoulders.

While Aric dug through their medical kit, he cleared his throat. "You were kind of hard on Shan back there. I was surprised that you sided with the Sith."

"I didn't side with Lana. I just reminded Theron that he wasn't blameless." Fynta huffed when Jorgan turned around holding a jar of kolto. He'd used them as a way to stay connected with the Republic through Garza without as much as a warning. Being forced to kill those soldiers had been a different kind of torture, except, there was no escaping it. She still saw their broken bodies every time she closed her eyes. Fynta shook the angry thoughts away. "They were both acting like children, narrow minded and, to be honest, I was tired and cranky."

"Still angry about Garza?"

Fynta crossed her arms and glared at the door. Jorgan chuckled as he sat down behind her and unscrewed the lid. "Let's see if we can do something about this before you start planning his mysterious disappearance." Aric scooped some of the high value ointment onto his fingers, the kind infused with a numbing agent that they saved for the really bad days.

Between the soothing effect of the cream, and the warmth of Aric's hands, Fynta allowed herself to be lulled into a heavenly bliss. "I think you missed your calling, riduur." She moaned when he hit a particularly tender spot in her shoulders.

Jorgan flipped Fynta's braid to the other side to keep it out of the mess and moved down her back to the broken the skin above her hips. "I'll never understand that man, Aric. How could he-" She felt his breath on the back of her neck as his hands slipped all the way around her waist. Fynta turned so that she could look her husband in the eye. They were backlit by desire, which hadn't been the response she expected. They were both dead tired, yet he looked like he might be on the verge of a second wind.

"I think that's enough about Shan." Jorgan pushed the still open jar out of the way and guided Fynta on her back. "Feeling better?"

Fynta offered a coy smile. "Still a little tight in some areas."

The Cathar smirked, one hand splayed across her stomach. "We should work that out, make sure you're nice and loose before we reach Yavin."

Fynta prepared to answer in kind, but Aric swallowed her response, and it quickly fled her mind. His aggressive advances made the major finally understand what he'd meant all those years ago when he said she kissed like most people punched. Rough and urgent.

"I take it you're over the whole thing about Theron now?" She asked with a teasing lilt.

Sliding one hand behind her head, Jorgan settled onto his elbows. "I _really_ don't want to discuss Shan anymore. We have more . . . pressing matters to attend to." He accentuated the word by knocking her knees apart with his own. Aric clearly hadn't forgotten the offer she'd made behind the shack in the Rishi Village.

Jorgan began the process of removing the rest of Fynta's clothes without taking his lips from her skin, which she found pretty damn impressive. She hooked her fingers under the elastic waistband on Aric's pants, giving them a nudge in the direction she wanted them to go. Aric complied with a smirk, and she began untying her braid. When he returned, his eyes followed her fingers, rewarding her with a deep, rumbling growl. Fynta tossed the hairband to the side and locked her ankles behind his back. "Now, let's discuss these _pressing matters_."

**The Red Blade**

Vector reclined on the bed while Zolah read his report from his time on Alderaan. Things looked to have gone favorably for him, and without bombings and terrorist strikes to mar the conference, making it a good bit less interesting than last time. When she looked up to congratulate him, the words caught in her throat. Vector simply stared at her, his expression peaceful yet, something else.

When Zolah didn't inquire, the joiner sighed. "We missed you. There was some concern that we might have fallen out of favor permanently."

"No, never." Zolah climbed onto the bed into her husband's arms. They had always been the only arms she trusted, yet her thoughts turned back towards the way Theron's had encircled her. She'd allowed herself to be pulled against him without conscious thought, it had been so easy. Sighing, Zolah curled closer to Vector's side. "I would have preferred having you there sooner."

"Did you manage anything with Agent Shan?" Vector asked the question as if he were asking about the weather. 

Zolah looked into her husband's black eyes. "He kissed me before we left Rishi, it was the second time. So, I believe so."

"You sound conflicted," Vector ventured with half a smile. "We've heard this tone before."

"Don't be ridiculous." Zolah didn't like the direction this conversation had taken and refused to allow it to continue. "Theron Shan is a high value target. I'll string him along a while longer, then either convince him to come peacefully, or abduct him when the truce ends."

Vector offered a sage nod, an expression that veered dangerously close to patronizing. "As you say, beloved."

The Chiss puffed in annoyance hard enough to ruffle her bangs. "Oh do shut up and kiss me, Vector. It's been too long."


	50. Foreseen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many revelations accompany Havoc’s arrival on Yavin, and Fynta’s being stalked by mysterious forces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 50! As a way of saying thanks for hanging in there this far, I'll take any requests your heart's desire. Give me something off the wall and creative to play with. Don't be shy.
> 
> Side note: Updates might start coming a little further apart. Work has been hectic, and I've reached the point where most of these chapters are 1st drafts, so require heavier edits. I'm hoping for bi-weekly posts instead of weekly.

**Wild Space**  
**D-5 Mantis**

"We don't have to do this, Cin. We could just disappear." Verin leaned back in his chair, boots on the table. "We don't owe the Empire or Republic anything. Shab, we could go back to Manda'yaim and start a farm."

"And what about Fynta?" Cinlat asked. Verin's face fell. She was hesitant to take part in any mission that had to do with the Dark Council. She'd made more than her fair share of enemies there, and Darth Marr didn't have a reputation for being the forgiving sort. Cinlat sighed, "Fynta will need our help. At the very least, we can watch her back. Aric and the rest too, they've grown on me." The admission tasted strange in her mouth. Cinlat had traveled alone purposefully for nearly a decade. Then, along came Verin with his whelp of a sister. Now, she finally began to understand why her husband missed his clan so much. Havoc Squad had sucked Cinlat into their life, and she was hard pressed to abandon that feeling.

"A truce between the Republic and Empire. It's historic, Cin'ika." Verin kicked back enough to pull his feet off the table and lurched forward, slamming his heavy boots down. "Not to mention, taking out Revan  _and_  the Emperor. We'll be famous." He hadn't been trying to convince Cinlat after all, merely giving her the option of backing out. Verin wanted the glory of taking down Revan.

"I'll settle for alive." Maybe Cinlat was getting too old. The Great Hunt didn't hold much thrill anymore. She couldn't tell if it was burnout, or that she was looking for something to up the ante and challenge her more.

Oblivious to his wife's thoughts, Verin spread his arms wide. "Tion'ad hukaat'kama?"

Cinlat smiled. "You are." Pushing the dark thoughts to the back of her mind for another time, she embraced her husband and buried her face in his shirt. "I love you _,_  do you know that?"

Verin leaned back to look Cinlat in the eye, concern evident. "Don't start that, riduur." He pulled her into a rough kiss, taking her chin in his hand. "We've survived worse." Cinlat sighed against his lips, wondering when this man had become more important to her than the hunt.

**The Red Blade**

Zolah stepped out of her room, shutting the door quietly behind her. She'd forgotten how wonderful the state of the art vessel felt. Being clean and comfortable certainly elevated her spirits, and Vector had been exceptionally attentive during their reunion.

The Chiss padded barefoot through the ship towards the kitchenette and found Kaliyo already occupying the caf maker. "Is it safe to venture out?"

Zolah arched an eyebrow at the Rattataki, and Kaliyo shrugged. "You two aren't as quiet as you think you are." A tremor ran through the woman. "I promised I wouldn't knock your taste in men, Agent. But, I still don't get it."

"Because Tanno Vik is clearly a better choice," Zolah mocked as she searched for a mug.

Kaliyo snapped her fingers. "He's got it where it counts. Just had to close my eyes and hold my breath. It was worth it, though."

Cup in hand, Zolah swatted Kaliyo's hip to get her to move out of the way. "Yes, you said as much earlier. What could that dull creature possibly have to say of importance?" She poured a mug of caf and leaned against the counter. Proper caf, at last, none of that disgusting instant stuff that Theron stocked the safe house with.

"A lot more than you'd think. Apparently, the major believes in total transparency within her squad. Did you know she was a spook once?"

"I do hope you got better than that, my dear. I heard it straight from Theron's mouth a month ago." Zolah turned when a hand settled on her hip. Vector squeezed into the small galley, his hair still mussed from the pillow and wearing nothing but a pair of relaxed pants. If Kaliyo hadn't been aboard, he probably wouldn't even have those on. Vector was not shy, but he tended not to flaunt his nudity in front of his crewmates.

The Red Blade had developed an interesting dynamic over the past few years. Vector filled the role of stoic father, while Kaliyo nipped at his heels like an annoying little sister, always antagonizing. Lokin often acted like a stern, yet secretly doting grandfather, and everyone, even Kaliyo, was fiercely protective of young, Ensign Temple. Zolah wondered where she fit into that dynamic, as they had shown time and time again to function perfectly well without her.

"Okay, how about this?" Kaliyo paused until Zolah looked at her again. She wore a feral grin that meant that she'd been holding out on Zolah. "Did you know that  _Miss Republic Hero_  broke regs and married her XO?"

Zolah froze with her mug halfway to her lips, and Vector's eyebrows nearly touched his hairline. "You  _must_  be mistaken. Fynta is Mandalorian."

"And?" Kaliyo crossed her arms. "They get married all the time. Spouse dies, and they find a new one. Bunch of kids too." Again, the Rattataki shuddered. It was a unanimous decision that Kaliyo never be left alone with anyone younger than drinking age, for their own safety.

"The major's second in command is a Cathar," Vector explained. Zolah mentally sorted through the information she'd collected over the course of the previous week. Suddenly, it hit her.  _That_  must have been the cryptic conversation that she'd overheard between Theron and Fynta. He'd found out somehow, and tried to warn Fynta away from a disaster in the making.

Kaliyo laughed, clutching the counter for balance. "No shit? Ha! No wonder the old lug thought he was selling me a juicy piece of information."

"Why did he tell you?" Zolah asked, still partially distracted by this new revelation. The Rattataki grinned, and Zolah held her hand up. "Never mind, I don't need to know."

**Yavin 4  
** **Verdant Swamp**

Havoc Squad arrived on the Red Blade's heels. Jorgan kept a closer eye on Zolah Holran after Vik revealed the information about her relationship with both Vector and Kaliyo Djannis. The anarchist had marks on her going back more than a decade. According to the Weequay, Zolah had no qualms about using sex as a form of coercion. Jorgan chose to ignore the fact that Fynta had once led the same lifestyle. When he'd asked her if she planned on warning Theron about the cipher agent, his wife shook her head. Theron had his own game in the works, and Fynta obviously didn't plan on getting in his way.

The SIS agent didn't give Havoc time to settle in, but hurried them into the field to set sensors around the perimeter of the camp. After a couple of Massassi warriors destroyed a research tent, it became painfully obvious that guard rotations were going to present a problem. The soldiers had been too busy watching one another, rather than focusing on their surroundings. Seven casualties, and they'd only just arrived.

"How are those sensors coming?" Fynta asked over the comms. Verin and Cinlat had landed the Mantis away from the main camp and met Havoc Squad in the jungle. As a Cathar, Jorgan had never thought he'd be grateful for the arrival of Mandalorians, but Verin and Cinlat were a safety net that Fynta needed on this planet.

According to Zolah, Fynta had been caught on holo when she executed the famed General Rakton. Fynta shrugged Aric off when he asked what this bit of information from the cipher agent had cost in return. His wife was hiding something, but he knew by now that he wouldn't get it out of her until she was ready. What mattered at the moment, was that the Imperials knew who killed their war hero.

"Kriffing wildlife thinks it's in love," Vik answered, then punctuated it with blaster fire. "Damn lurkers." Jorgan admitted that the thought of the Weequay being harassed by the local fauna brought a smile to his face.

The Captain finished the final touches on the last relay sensor in his sector and stood to stretch his back. The stifling heat on this moon made it difficult to breathe without his helmet on. The air hung heavy and stagnant, as if the entire planet were rotting from the core. "All finished here, boss." Jorgan built up a layer of mud around the sensor to keep creatures from getting too curious.

"Good work, sending rendezvous coordinates. Make your way there and stay hydrated." Fynta wore her profession demeanor on Yavin. Jorgan bet it had to do with being responsible for encouraging cooperation between two warring factions. If anyone could hold this shaky alliance together, it was his stubborn, Mando wife. She'd had plenty of practice keeping Havoc from self-destructing. "What the— _oof_."

Fynta's comm remained open, and Jorgan switched to her POV to see what happened. The cave ceiling came into view, and Jorgan opened his mouth to ask if Fynta had tripped again when Elara cut in. "Major? Major are you alright?" Jorgan realized that image hadn't moved. When he pulled up the vitals screen, his blood ran cold.

"Dorne, I'm not reading a heartbeat." The line lay perfectly flat. No brain activity, no chemical fluctuations. All life signs were simply gone. "Please tell me my system's malfunctioning."

" _I'm afraid not, sir. I don't have one either."_

Jorgan sprinted through the foliage, shoving the overgrown plants out of his way in an attempt to reach the major's last known position. "Does anyone have eyes on Fynta?" Training alone kept his voice calm while his mind panicked.  _Not again_. His heart pounded in his ears, visions of carrying her unconscious body through the Bastion while blood soaked into his armor threatened to crowd out logical thought.

"I'm fine," Fynta gasped.

Jorgan slid to a halt, taking deep, controlled breaths. Sure enough, all of Fynta's vitals surged to life again. Her pulse was unusually high, as was the dopamine in her system. "Shab, Fyn'ika. What was that?" Verin asked. He sounded out of breath too, and Jorgan imagined he hadn't been the only one racing to secure their commander's wellbeing. "It looked like a shabbingghost."

"It was," Lana answered calmly. "This place is mired in the Dark Side, many have died here, not all became one with the Force."

Fynta struggled to her feet, camera tracking from right to left. Whatever had attacked her didn't appear to have stuck around. The cave was completely empty. "It felt like being hit by a reek."

"He liked you," Lana replied with a smile. She did that a lot for a Sith. "More than likely, he wanted to possess you, most will be of a singular mindset. I suggest caution."

Great. Not only were they toeing the line between ancient enemies, fighting a group of zealots who wanted to bring the Sith Emperor back to life, but now they had ghosts to contend with. And of course, they would zero in on Fynta. The blasted woman attracted danger like a bantha attracted flies.

"Lana, why did Fynta's heart stop?" Elara asked. Jorgan didn't so much care for the why, only that it had restarted.

" _She rejected the possession, I suppose. I'm pleased to see it didn't kill you, Major. That would have been most unfortunate."_

"Thanks," Fynta muttered. "If all the sensors are up and running, form up at the rendezvous." Jorgan watched his wife's POV carefully, noting that her heart rate hadn't come down yet. Just this once, he decided to disobey orders.

**Prowler's Trail  
Northwest Valley**

Fynta's chest hurt, but mostly, she found the encounter with the Sith spirit unsettling. At least she knew that she wasn't good for possession, though. The major had nearly finished with the final sensor when someone grabbed her waist and pushed her against a rock. Her blade pressed to the assailant's neck before she realized it was Aric. He had his back against her chest, forcing her into the wall with one arm held in front of her. A second later, she heard the clanking of a large droid stomping through the nearby stream.

"Sorry," Aric whispered, keeping his head tilted away from the point of the knife. Fynta clicked the release to suck the vibroblade back into its housing. "Didn't mean to sneak up on you. I spotted that walker right as I made your position."

The metallic grinding grew louder, and Fynta heard a tree snap. She leaned against Aric's arm to get a better look at what came their way. "Shab, that thing has to be more than six meters tall." The massive ion cannon on the front gave her pause too. "That's military grade. Looks Imperial."

"We thought the Revanites had military backing," Jorgan responded. "Now, we know."

Fynta wondered why no one else chimed in until she realized that Aric had her personal line open. Then, she remembered that he should be on the other side of the jungle. Technically, he'd broken protocol by ducking orders, but a small part of her appreciated that her husband had tramped all this way just to make sure she was alright.

They remained hidden by the stones until the heavy footsteps faded into the distance, then Fynta gave the sensor a kick to get the green light to blink on. "We're receiving, loud and clear," Theron answered almost as soon as it began transmitting. He'd probably have something to say about her's being the last sensor to go active.

"That's all of them, Theron," Fynta replied. Jorgan climbed one of the rocks surrounding their position to track the walker's progress through the jungle. She could see the toe of his boot hanging above her head as he spread out on his stomach to keep a low profile.

"Good work." Something clicked, and Fynta realized her private line had been reopened. "Before you come back to base, I think an extra modification is in order." Theron kept his voice low, meaning he was doing his spy thing. "With a few tweaks, we can set the sensors to forward us extra data on Imperial activities. They won't even know it's happening."

Fynta jumped up and slapped Aric's boot to get his attention. He slid backwards, chest plate scraping against the rock, to land next to her. Fynta patched him in, but held her finger up, signaling for silence. "You want to spy on the Empire's forces? Aren't we supposed to be in a truce?" Jorgan's faceplate settled squarely on hers, and she knew he was trying to convey his opinion.

"I think recent events have taught us to keep an eye over our shoulder," Theron responded dryly. He wasn't going to let Lana's betrayal go any time soon. "We won't be doing anything to damage their capabilities. Just staying informed."

Fynta wished she could talk things over with Jorgan, although she could already guess his sentiment. The Cathar wasn't thrilled about working with Imperials, and didn't share her equal opportunity stance on the galaxy. Even though he'd become slightly less disgruntled, he was still a Republic patriot down to his bones. She, on the other hand, was still annoyed with people on  _both_  sides. "Fynta?"

"Yeah, I heard you." Jorgan's helmet tipped in a clear nod that he agreed with Theron, and Fynta sighed. So far, Lana was the only Imp Fynta had spoken to who wasn't adamant that this treaty would end as soon as the threat did. They'd be back to war within a week.

"Fine, walk me through the modifications." The major knelt by the sensor to pry the housing off as Theron started rattling off instructions. If this gave her squad the upper hand in the next battle, or even saved one Republic soldier's life, then it would be worth it.

**Imperial Guard Training Grounds**

"Approaching the Imperial Outpost," Verin called over the comms. Fynta had split everyone into groups of two in order to cover more ground, which was something Yavin 4 had a lot of. Verin and Elara made their way through the self-proclaimed Imperial zone, while Vik and Balic trudged through the swamps, Jorgan and Zolah covered the mountain path, and Fynta and Cinlat took the more direct route.

Theron's spy gizmos had discovered a secret Imperial signal that Darth Marr hadn't been keen to share much about. All Cormac knew, was that they were heading toward the Imperial Guard's training grounds. These guys were supposed to be the best of the best, so the tops weren't taking any chances. Jorgan and Zolah had taken up sniping positions somewhere within range, but Cormac couldn't tell where. Everything looked the same from above: a big mess of green.

"That's a nice weapon," Jorgan commented over the open channel while they waited. "You know how to use it?"

"Highest ranked in my class," Zolah responded. Aric made a surprised sound at the back of his throat. It would drive the Cathar crazy knowing that he had something in common with the Imperial agent. Cormac bet there would be a target competition at some point while they were here. The Cathar had a secret competitive side.

"So long as no one sabotages your sights, right, Cipher?" Fynta added, voice dripping with sarcasm.

The Imperial agent didn't reply for so long that Cormac didn't think she would. Then, the woman's cool tones answered. "Shall I try again, Major?"

Something about the way Zolah said  _again_  sent a chill up Cormac's spine. While he was still trying to make out what the Chiss meant, a savage growl rolled through Cormac's helmet before Jorgan cut his comm access. Cormac knew he'd missed something obvious, but the captain hadn't, and he didn't like what he'd heard.

Verin mentioned something about a new upgrade that he couldn't wait to try, and Fynta sighed. "Do  _not_  shoot anyone, Verin. This truce has to hold."

The bounty hunter chuckled. "I don't shoot people, ad'ika."

"Then done  _stab_  anyone, either," Fynta corrected.

Cormac grinned when Vik made an impolite motion with his hand. They'd placed a bet on who'd lose their cool first and beat the hell out of the other. Vik's credits were on Verin, but Balic knew that Fynta would be the first to blow her top. She had a lot to prove to an older brother who didn't take her authority seriously.

"Sitrep everyone, what are your positions?" Fynta asked, changing the subject after a brief absence from the standard chatter. She sounded exasperated, and Cormac bet it had something to do with her husband's growl. "Verin, I see you and Dorne through Jorgan's sights. Hold position until the rest of us catch up."

Cormac checked as well and saw that they'd fallen a klick behind. "We'd be a lot closer if Vik wouldn't stop to pet the wildlife."

"Not like you're helping," the Weequay shot back, bludgeoning the foliage with his hunting knife.

"Hey, not my fault they like you more." Every single animal on this island went straight for the Weequay. They'd made a mess on their trek towards the training facility, maybe that's what had drawn them all out. The creatures sensed blood in the water.

"The Guardsmen must have known every meter of those ruins, and it didn't save them from the Revanites. Stay alert, everyone," Jorgan snapped when Vik and Cormac finally came within sight of the coordinates. Cormac shut his mouth to avoid another lecture about not goofing around on the job. The Captain clearly wasn't in a good mood anymore.

The training grounds were nothing more than massive slabs of destruction surrounding a single, triangular structure. Cormac took up position near the door of the central building and checked to see where everyone else was so that he could adjust his fire.

"Alright," Fynta ordered, her voice as calm as always before they stormed a building. "We breach on three."

**Coalition Base Camp  
** **Three Hours Later**

Verin watched the unlikely group of allies as they milled around the clearing, bouncing from conversation to conversation. Elara and Balic sat on the ground while she examined something on her datapad. The man laid his head in her lap, and Verin was sure he was asleep. Fynta and Jorgan stood off to the side, lost in conversation, while Zolah and her tagalongs poured over the information from the sensors. Verin noted the angry glances that Jorgan shot the Imperials, but he would have to wait until later to find out why.

When his attempts to bribe more implosion bombs off Tanno Vik failed, Verin joined Cinlat. "Are you as bored as I am, riduur?" His attention settled on his little sister again just as Jorgan brushed his hand along her forearm. Verin liked the grumpy shabuir, he really did. But, seeing the Cathar get in Cinlat's face back on Rishi had set him back in his attempt to fully accept the man. Then, having to cover for them when the two were stupid enough to get caught on camera-Verin sighed. It wouldn't have been a big deal if he were any other species. Guilt settled in his gut as he tried to see Jorgan as a brother, instead of a Cathar.

Theron Shan walked across the platform, rescuing Verin from his crisis of conscience. Grand Master Satele, Darth Marr, and Lana met them halfway. Fynta waved everyone into a huddle as the guys in charge relayed their findings.

The coordinated assault had yielded a single prisoner: a man driven mad by the voices of the jungle. Fynta had insisted on a coordinated approach to the interrogation when Marr and Satele began squabbling over who got to do the honors. Verin wondered which of the Force powerhouses had finally broken the captive.

"A device for mass ritual sacrifice?" Theron's brow furrowed, giving him an incredulous appearance. "That's seriously what he called it?"

"Capable of killing every living thing on this moon as fuel for the Emperor's resurrection," Marr answered.

Even Lana looked paler than usual, and her voice contained a breathy quality when she spoke. "And housed within the very temple the Revanites are using as their base of operations."

"So we take the temple and shut down the weapon before Revan can activate it," Fynta offered, as if it were the most obvious solution available. When she saw a problem, she ran at it headlong and made the rest up as she went. Verin's sister hadn't always been like that. He still remembered the little girl who hid from thunderstorms. That part of Fynta died in the lower levels of Coruscant years ago, though.

"The temple has a locking system that can be overridden from the outside, provided we find the right mechanisms." Master Satele walked them back to the main platform and activated the holotable. The map showed more terrain than structures, which could either make accessing the objective easier, or ten times more difficult. "I would like to send Jedi Master Kaeto Vaa as my envoy. This will most likely require the presence of a Force sensitive."

Verin looked up to find a thickly muscled Togruta female nodding towards Fynta. "It will be a pleasure to work with you again, Major." He remembered the woman from Tython and wouldn't mind seeing her fight again.

"Darth Nox will join as well," Darth Marr interjected. Verin noted that it wasn't a request, though he doubted Satele planned on taking  _no_  for an answer either, regardless of how politely worded. "This is a Sith world, after all."

A tiny figure tipped her head, Verin almost hadn't noticed the masked woman standing between Marr and Master Vaa. "This will be fun," she commented with a hint of madness in her voice. Verin shared a glance with Cinlat, who had eyes only for the Sith. They'd both heard of Darth Nox. This would prove to be an interesting outing for the assault team.

Fynta's lips pressed into a thin line while she considered everyone. "Fine, but I think a small outfit would be better served than a large incursion. We'll be sneaking into the heart of the Massassi territory. So, Kaeto, Nox, myself, and Kaliyo. That evens out the odds, mostly."

Everyone objected at once, except for Marr and Satele. Those two nodded in unison, but it was Marr who spoke. "That is acceptable."

**Temple Ruins**

"I don't like you being out there on your own," Jorgan whispered into Fynta's ear.

"I'm not on my own, I've got Kaeto." Fynta genuinely liked the Jedi. She didn't parade her power around, and didn't try to appear more pious than the rest. She fought hard, watched the man to her left, and Fynta got the distinct impression that there was some seriously messed up osik in the young Jedi's past. Granted, Fynta wasn't actually  _with_  Kaeto. They'd split as evenly as possible, putting her with Darth Nox.

"Watch out for those Massassi. They're no joke," Theron warned over the main channel as they approached the heart of the camp. The Massassi were a native race of sub-intelligent species, according to Dorne, but they were shabbing strong. Roughly two and a half meters tall and covered in blood red quills, not to mention the claws.

"He's right," Jorgan added, this time over the main link. "They could pry you out of your armor. Be careful." Maybe he'd finally given up on trying to get Fynta to change tactics.

Darth Nox stalked in front of Fynta; there was something familiar in the way that the masked Sith moved. Her boots made no sound as she passed through the foliage. Fynta had to put a lot of effort into not sounding like an icetromper stampeding through the brush by comparison.

"Yo, Republic dogs, I think we've got something." Kaliyo called. Though she shouldn't, Fynta liked Zolah's henchman. She wondered how the woman survived in the Empire where such disrespect was met with severe consequences, and altered her opinion of the Chiss a little. If there was any information to be gleaned on the agent, it was through her relationship with Kaliyo.

It had taken a direct order to keep Jorgan from turning his weapon on Zolah once he'd figured out that she was the one who'd taken a shot at Fynta on Manaan. Aric wasn't the forgiving type, and Fynta kicked herself for opening her big mouth mid-op. She really hadn't considered that fact that he would work it out so quickly.

Fynta jogged to where the Jedi and Rattataki still stared at a purple triangle sitting on a pillar. It looked out of place when compared to the rugged surroundings. "You getting this, Theron? Lana? Now what?"

"Poke it and see what happens," Theron suggested. Fynta made a mental note to smack him when she got back.

"It's obvious, is it not?" Darth Nox asked, stepping closer to stroke her finger along the shimmering surface. The pillar glowed faintly, and the Sith took a step back to thrust her hand towards the crystal. Purple lightning arced from her fingertips to the obelisk, and the glow became brighter. It was over in a minute, and the air around them reverberated with the crack of ancient locks disengaging.

Darth Nox dusted her hands together. "One down, two more to go."

_Your arrival has been foreseen. . . ._

Fynta spun, weapon raised. "Did anyone hear that?" It was the same voice she'd heard twice already, but the other times it had only mentioned one word.  _Closer._

Master Kaeto tilted her head, one tattooed lekku sliding off her bare shoulder. "I heard nothing, my friend."

"You feeling okay, Fyn'ika?" Verin asked over the comms. The last thing Fynta needed right now was her squad thinking she'd cracked. From now on, she'd keep the strange voice to herself.

"Yeah, thought I heard something. We're moving on."

_You must press on. . . ._  The voice spoke again, definitely masculine and vaguely familiar.

_Ah, shab, you're losing it Fynta_. This time, she knew the voice as her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:  
> Manda'yaim [MAN-dah-YAI-eem] the planet Mandalore.  
> Tion'ad hukaat'kama? [Tee-ON-ahd HOO-kaht-KA-ma] Who's watching your back?
> 
> Footnote: Did anyone get knocked on their butt by those stupid Force ghost's wandering all over the place as much as I did? I hated that stupid tunnel.


	51. Legend's Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are set into motion on Yavin. And it changes everything.

**Coalition Command Base**

" _Okay, we're in. What's our next step?"_

Theron had his face so close to the screen that Jorgan though he might bump into it. "I'm betting those runes on the floor match the ones on the pillars. See if you can figure out how to activate them in the right order."

The two men waited in silence, both staring apprehensively at the ground team's progress. The rest of Havoc ran patrols with other members of the alliance in an effort to keep things as neutral as possible, including the reluctant Verin and Cinlat. Lana and Zolah worked across the room with Yuun, while Elara attempted to coordinate with medical staff brought in by ships in both convoys. Marr and Satele had vanished again, though the Cathar had no clue where they went.

Theron cleared his throat. "So, I guess I owe you an apology." Jorgan glanced at the SIS agent without answering. Theron never took his eyes off the monitor and kept his voice pitched low. "I didn't know you two were married. I thought it was just a fling."

Jorgan tensed, looking over his shoulder to see if they'd attracted the attention of anyone else in the room. He leaned forward, resting one hand on the back of Theron's chair and the other on the console as if trying to get a better look at something. "She told you?"

"Not in so many words."  _Damn_ , Jorgan thought, he'd just confirmed Theron's suspicion. "But, enough for me to figure it out. I've known her for a long time. Uh, congratulations, I guess?"

"We didn't send out formal announcements," Jorgan warned. If Fynta trusted Theron enough to give him  _any_  information, then Jorgan could at least ensure the man knew not to take it further. The Cathar sighed. "I know about your history, and I think you made your opinion quite clear. Perhaps we should leave it at that."

Theron turned in his chair. "Look, Captain, Fynta is a good woman, I wouldn't have put so much effort into her as an agent if I didn't think so. It's just, she and I, well, we're—"

"Complicated," Jorgan finished for the SIS agent. "Yeah, that's exactly how she described it too."

"Yeah." Theron turned back to the screen. "And, you didn't strike me as the  _complicated_  sort. So, no hard feelings?"

Jorgan straightened and crossed his arms. "Let's focus on surviving this; we can bond later." His personal comm chirped, and the Cathar excused himself to take the call away from prying ears. "Jorgan."

"Has Fynta said anything to you that sounded strange recently?" Verin asked without so much as a hello. Had Jorgan not spent the last four years with Fynta, that might have been off-putting, but her family liked to get straight to the point.

"She mentioned hearing someone speak earlier, but I didn't see anyone. That was it." Fynta had been jumpy since her encounter with the Force ghost. Not that Jorgan blamed her; she hated the supernatural. But, the concern in Verin's voice made Jorgan uneasy. "Want me to check in with her?"

"Yeah, but don't tell her it was from me. That'll ensure she isn't honest," Verin responded and cut the link. He knew Fynta as well as, or better than, Jorgan did. For all her honestly, Fynta often hid the truth about her own wellbeing in an effort to appear tough.

Aric stepped outside the main staging area and found a secluded spot amongst the vegetation. He mulled over his words for a few minutes before opening the line to his wife. "How's it going?"

" _How's it going_?" Fynta snorted in response. "Okay, riduur, what's going on?"

"Can't a man check on his wife?" Aric would never have made it as a spy. He was crap at subtlety.

Stifled laughter answered before Fynta did. "A man can,  _you_  only do that when you're worried. Out with it."

"Are you feeling alright?" Jorgan asked after a couple of beats.

Silence met his question, which usually meant that Fynta was trying to figure out how to lie to him without actually lying. "It's complicated."

Aric almost laughed at the use of the all too common phrase. "At the risk of distracting you from your mission, define complicated." He leaned against a tree, watching the soldiers and technicians mill around.

Fynta sighed. "You'll think I'm crazy, but what the hell. I keep hearing a voice. He wants me to continue moving forward, telling me that I'm getting closer to the objective, but no one else seems to hear it. I'll be honest, Aric, I'm a little freaked out. Maybe all those concussions are finally taking a toll."

Jorgan thought for a moment, an idea weaving through his mind even as his feet began to move. "Hold on, I'm going to look into something." Jorgan returned to the command area to join Lana at the holotable. "Has anyone else reported sightings of those spirits?"

Lana shook her head, short, blonde hair fanning out around her face. "No one, Captain. They seem to be drawn to Fynta alone. Why do you ask?"

Jorgan held up a hand to cut off the question. "Just a hunch." He jogged back towards the seclusion of the overhang before contacting his wife again. "Fynta, no one else has encountered any Force presences on this moon. They like you for some reason. Just stay focused on the mission, and we'll get this figured out when you get back." There was no response, then he realized there was nothing coming from her. No sound, no GPS, no bios.

"I've lost the team!" Theron called from the terminal.

Jorgan lowered his wrist comm and returned to look over Theron's shoulder again. It was Ord Mantell all over again, but at least this time, Fynta wasn't alone.

**Command Base  
** **Medical Ward**

Theron wandered through the medical camp to clear his frustration. He'd tried every trick he could think of to pull communications back up, even gotten Zolah involved. Whatever they found in that temple had thoroughly locked him out. It surprised Theron how at ease everyone else acted about it, then he thought back to all the other times their signal had been jammed or lost since starting this op and sighed. Maybe he was overreacting after all.

Lieutenant Dorne caught the agent's attention as she directed a soldier with a hovercart, then returned to a group of what Theron could only assume were other medical professionals. He wondered if he should recognize any of them, then abruptly veered away when he realized that, yes, he probably should.

The rest of the camp looked to be coming together as well. Soldiers and aides set up rows of tents, and it occurred to Theron for the first time that the shadows had grown longer. Briefly, the SIS agent wondered if he should inquire about his accommodations for the night, but that felt like a lot of effort to put into something he didn't plan on using. He'd probably pass out at the holotable again.

"You look lost, Agent Shan."

The voice sounded familiar, though it took a couple of seconds to parse out why. Theron turned a few ungraceful circles before Vector Hyllus finally emerged from behind one of the tents. The flap had been pinned back, and Theron saw two bedrolls inside. His stomach dropped at the implication before he shoved it angrily from his mind.

"Theron?"

Hearing his given name in the strange, melodious voice snapped Theron from his glumness. "Sorry, just . . . clearing my head."

Vector nodded and ducked into the tent, emerging seconds later with a kettle and two field cups. "We'd originally brewed this for our wife, however, we believe she's become distracted again." He held one out to Theron. "It would be a shame for it to go to waste."

Theron grasped the cup in numb fingers and swallowed past a dry throat as Vector filled it. "Your, wife?"

The man nodded, keeping his black eyes on the task before him. "We discussed how to bring the subject to bare. Zolah is our chosen partner in this life," Vector explained. "However, she is free to be with whomever she finds appealing." Those dark pools found Theron's face, and he felt every muscle lock up. "As it is with us."

Theron was on the verge of asking for a clarification of who  _us_  was, until he remembered the peculiar speech pattern that Vector used. Unfortunately, that didn't clarify things in the slightest.  _Vector is his own man_ , the memory whispered at the back of the agent's mind. Realizing that he'd been staring like an idiot, Theron sipped at the tea and averted his gaze. The brew was heady, but surprisingly refreshing.

Since Vector didn't look to be on the verge of ripping Theron's throat out with whatever alien superpower being joined to a Killik hive offered, he thought a few questions couldn't hurt. "I had a feeling that you were the one she kept slipping out to call. You two make a nice couple." Theron paused, sipped again, then cleared his throat. "So, you're what, in an open marriage?" He cursed the mingled hope and excitement that idea conjured.

"That's as good of a way to put it as any, we imagine," Vector replied with a nod. "She has certainly taken a liking to you."

Theron nearly coughed into his cup at the casualness with which Vector discussed the possibility of another man sleeping with his wife. It was such a drastic change from the conversation he'd just left with Jorgan that it nearly made him dizzy. "So, where does Kaliyo fit into this?" He asked, attempting to make sense of his life. His ex-lover's, and that was a term Theron used loosely to describe Fynta, current mate wanted to pound him into dust for crimes committed years ago. Whereas, the husband of the woman he'd like to pin to a wall sounded perfectly at ease, even encouraging of the prospect. Theron needed to get his shit together, these women were going to be the death of him.

Vector made a disgusted noise at the back of his throat. "Kaliyo serves her purpose, but it is one of violence. Though, we imagine Zolah would not see a need to hide any previous dalliances from you. No doubt you have your own past regrets."

Theron nodded sympathetically. He shook the list of names from his mind and realized that his cup was empty. Vector proffered the kettle again, and Theron accepted, relaxing into the strange conversation. "We also prepared dinner," Vector continued. "Nothing particularly appetizing, but it contains the pertinent nutrients for this environment." The man looked about as if making sure the coast was clear before waving Theron closer. "You would be welcome to join us in Zolah's absence. We fear she may not return until late."

Theron hesitated. He really should not have dinner with an Imperial spy, especially not the husband of the woman he'd been making passes at for the last few weeks. Then again, Vector's body language gave no indication of violence, and the man sounded earnest in his invitation.

At last, Theron decided that every other stupid decision in his life led him to this moment of having tea with what could easily be called his arch nemesis, were he interested in such titles. What harm could one more misguided attempt at a social life do? Worst case scenario, Vector drugged him, and he woke up in an interrogation cell, which had stopped sounding terrifying years ago. Best case scenario, he had a nice dinner and learned a little more about the infamous Cipher Nine.

Decision made, Theron ducked into the tent behind Vector and sat cross-legged on the floor. Nothing sprang from the corner to bind him, and no one bludgeoned him over the head. Just the faint hint of spice flavored the air. Theron sighed.  _So far, so good._

**Verdant Swamp**

"Fynta, do you read?" Cinlat tilted her head to one side while she tried to hail the rest of the team. Meanwhile, Cormac kept an eye on their surroundings. He and the huntress were paired up to patrol towards the outer perimeter of the coalition campsite. The jungle looked quiet, but the familiar sounds of animals moving about still punctuated the night, so he didn't think they were in any serious danger at the moment.

Listening to the local wildlife had been drilled into Cormac in basic. Comm signal was patchy in the mountains on Alderaan, so they were trained to let the landscape warn them of a potential threat. It had never failed him, and he assumed it wouldn't on Yavin 4 either. The local fauna wasn't used to their territory being tramped over by this many humanoids, if they went silent, then he'd worry.

"Anyone copy?" Cinlat sounded more annoyed than concerned when her efforts were met with silence. She huffed and folded her arms, cocking one tiny hip out to the side. "Figures."

Cormac chuckled, then stopped when the woman's T-shaped visor turned on him. He cleared his throat. "I'm sure it's just interference from the temple. Happens all the time." Their rounds took them within fifteen klicks of the accursed building, so disruption was to be expected.

"I agree," Cinlat began. "It's just—"

"Anyone in contact with the ground team?" Jorgan asked, and Balic had to stifle a laugh when the huntress made an  _I told you so_  motion. Fynta had last reported that they were entering the building after finishing with the locking mechanisms. There had been a lot of noise in the background, and the major explained that Darth Nox and Kaliyo had started a game of chicken with the local adolescent Massassi. The fact that she sounded completely unbothered by this dangerous pastime made Cormac love her all the more.

"They just entered the temple. There's no telling what kind of tech is in there. Just sit tight, we'll hear from them soon," Cinlat reported as if she hadn't been asking that very question seconds before. The Cathar growled a response, then fell silent again. Cinlat switched to Cormac's personal frequency, which he had to admit, bolstered his pride substantially.

Cinlat Ejnar was something of a legend. She'd won the Great Hunt, created a name for herself, and had earned Elara's undying respect from a tender age. That, and the woman was badass enough to kick the osik out of Fynta without breaking a sweat. The fact that she wanted to talk to him instead of just strolling in silence made Balic's chest puff out.

"That man needs to learn not to hover," Cinlat complained in a slightly amused voice. "Newlyweds. They're hopeless."

Cormac chuckled. "Well, Fynta doesn't set the best example for clear thinking when it comes to her own safety. Jorgan's watched her try to kill herself time and time again. It's the only thing the major's bad at."

"She's been that way since I met her," Cinlat responded, stopping to remove her helmet for a drink. She slipped it back on and passed the canteen to Cormac before leaning against a crumbling wall. "Verin says everything changed after her run in with the Black Sun. He swears she was the perfect daughter before their parents died. Then something just—snapped."

Cormac knew Fynta had run with the gang briefly. He even knew that she couldn't have kids due to an incident involving them, but that was as far as Elara had been willing to go. Best friend or not, he wasn't about to ask Fynta herself. He also didn't want to get Cinlat in trouble. Despite his curiosity, Balic decided to do the decent thing and be honest. "She doesn't talk about it much."

Cinlat's head tipped towards him in a nod. "Not my place, then."

"Why don't you tell me something that is allowed," Cormac added, changing the subject. "Something about the boss from your days. How'd you meet?" He chugged some water while she stood guard. That was the rule, at least one helmet on and weapon hot at all times.

The bounty hunter snorted a laugh. "They tried to steal my score. I'd tracked this Trandoshan through the swamps on Hutta. Big chakaar, I was going to have to remove his head to get him back to Nem'ro, when something bowled me over from behind." Her laugh came out gentler this time. "Verin may not be tall, but he hits like a drunken Gamorrean. Anyway, he shot me, then I shot him, and Fynta threatened to kill us both. Long story short, we came to an understanding and shared the mark. After that, I couldn't get rid of them."

"Then you fell for Verin?" Cormac would be lying if he claimed not to be a sucker for this kind of stuff. Even back in his misguided youth when he had more than one girl on the side, he'd always brought them flowers and tried to treat them right. Then, Elara came along and flipped his world on its head. He'd become a bumbling idiot around her, and she loved him anyway.

"That took some time," Cinlat admitted. "I made the mistake of sleeping with my last partner, and we didn't part on the best of terms. It tore the whole damn crew apart. But, yes. Eventually, the stubborn shabuir won me over."

Balic laughed in earnest, thinking her story sounded all too familiar. "Verin and Fynta must be a lot alike." The boss had taken a similar approach with Jorgan, hounding him until he finally gave in.

"So I've heard." Cormac imagined Cinlat smiling behind her helmet. He wondered what that looked like. "Once those Wolfe brats have a target in their sights, they don't let up. Like godsdamned akk trackers."

Cormac smirked and slipped his helmet back on to scan what little of the horizon he could see. The sun had long set, and their watch was almost up. Something tickled at the back of his neck. Like hackles raised to a threat his mind hadn't caught on to yet. That's when he realized that the animals had gone quiet.

"You hear that?" Cinlat asked, easing her rippers out of their holsters.

"Yeah." Cormac propped his hand cannon on his thigh and activated the life signs program. Between the naturally hot temperatures and heavy humidity, they weren't completely accurate, so he didn't run them constantly.

"Cormac, down!" Cinlat dove towards him just as the explosion took them both off their feet. Trees shattered around them, pelting their armor with shrapnel.

Balic came up firing, his bolts tearing through the foliage as a group of Revanite soldiers rushed them. He didn't have time to think, but registered that Cinlat's rippers were firing to his left. Balic focused his assault on the targets directly in front of him.

The familiar hum of lightsabers brought Cormac around, firing slugs directly into the blue and red energy blades. They batted the first few away, then the Sith toppled. The Jedi leapt over his comrade, and Cormac raised his weapon in time to block the attack. The lightsaber did a number on his gun, but it allowed him to knock his attacker backwards. Cinlat put one in the Jedi's head from behind.

The man slumped forward to reveal Cinlat on her side, still firing into the brush. Cormac rushed to her, only noticing the growing pool of red when he knelt. "Here," she rasped, shoving her rippers at him.

Blaster fire struck the ground and Balic's thigh. His cannon was trashed, so he accepted the rippers and turned on the enemy, firing until the last of their attackers fell. "Cinlat, you alright?" He asked, walking further into the overgrowth to ensure all targets had been neutralized. "Cinlat?"

"Balic, what's happened?" Elara requested over the comms. Her voice sounded urgent, a fact Cormac registered in a disconnected way.

"We were ambushed," Cormac answered, hurrying back to the huntress. She'd slumped onto her back and didn't appear responsive when he knelt beside her. "Cinlat's hurt." Balic set the blasters aside and removed her helmet. She was paler than he remembered, or maybe it was due to the eerie green light cast by his night vision. Either way, the woman was definitely unconscious. "Elara, walk me through this, there's a lot of blood, and she's out cold."

Cormac tore off his gauntlets so that he could get Cinlat's plates off. "Balic, you have to find the bleed, her pulse is dropping."

"Shit," the man swore, turning Cinlat over to try to locate the problem.

"Balic, check the major artery locations," Elara replied, her voice calm, if not higher than usual. It registered in the back of his mind that she kept using his name to keep him focused, which was good, because Cormac was on the verge of panic. "Legs, neck, and underarms."

Cormac did as he was told and finally found the culprit under Cinlat's right arm. A fragment of wood, not large enough to be conspicuous, had jammed itself into the less protected area above her elbow. "Got it." The only problem being that he couldn't get to the wound without removing her shoulder plate and all of the armor below.

Balic's fingers fumbled over the seals, slipping off the blood soaked beskar as he continued to swear. "Hold on, Cin. Almost there."

One clasp gave him more trouble than the others, and Cormac was sure he could see the color draining out of Cinlat with every heart-pounding second. Desperately, he ripped the plates away and tore open the coagulant packet with his teeth. Rolling Cinlat onto her side, Balic lifted her arm to excise the object and applied as much of the powder as he could.

It occurred to him that Elara had stopped offering direction, and he checked their link. "What do I do next?" Balic put his fingers to Cinlat's neck, then tried her wrist because he'd always been crap at medical stuff. He pushed hard enough to leave bruises in his urgency to find the steady pumping that indicated life.

"Elara, I need you to walk me through the steps." Cormac tried to ignore the rising fear as he removed his helmet and lowered an ear over Cinlat's mouth and nose. His blood pounded so loudly that he couldn't make out if the woman was breathing or not.

"Elara!"

"I'm sorry, Balic," Elara whispered. The next words rang unimaginably loud in the silence around him. "She's gone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update might take some time, much angst and violence are involved.


	52. Take It Out On Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone deals with death in their own way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As soon as I heard the song Take It Out On Me by Thousand Foot Krutch, I knew this chapter had to exist. Special thanks to Dimigex for helping me wring all the feels out of it. As usual, Mando'a translations are at the bottom.

**Mess Tent  
** **Neutral Ground**

Verin watched a group of young soldiers grappling on the floor of the ancient ruins. He split his time between checking in with Fynta and offering pointers when one of the youths showed bad form. So far, comms were still offline to the group that had entered the temple, but Verin wasn't worried. Fynta was impossible to kill, and he had little stake in the others. Granted, he rather liked the Togruta. She'd fought well on Tython.

Verin had just finished showing an Imp the proper way to disarm a knife attack when Jorgan finally called him back. He walked away from the group before answering with a laugh, "That was a long conversation. Did Fynta spill all of her secrets?"

"Fynta's fine, but we need you back in ops command." The hair on Verin's arms stood on end at the tone of Jorgan's voice. Something was wrong. The Cathar sounded tight, too controlled, like a commander rather than a friend.

"Be right there." Verin answered, swallowing the sense of unease. He made it to the command base in under five minutes at a steady jog. He'd tried to raise Cinlat a couple of times to see if she had any clue what was going on, but the signal on this moon was all over the place. She should be returning from patrol with Cormac soon anyway.

The hunter slowed to a walk as he passed under the natural arch that separated command from the rest of the camp. The place was fairly empty; only Theron, Lana, Jorgan, Cormac, and Elara. Verin wondered what could possibly be so important that only half of the war council had been summoned.

Lana was the first to note Verin's entrance. She cleared her throat, and Theron stood, both quietly slipping further towards the back. Jorgan, Cormac, and Elara huddled to the side. It wasn't until Balic looked up, and Verin saw his bloodshot eyes, that he realized that Cinlat wasn't with him.

The air left Verin's lungs in a gush when Jorgan started towards him. His legs stopped working, and before he realized they'd buckled, his knees cracked in the dirt. Jorgan crouched, one hand resting on Verin's shoulder. Cormac approached slowly, sniffling. "I'm sorry, I tried, really. We were ambushed, and I couldn't get her armor off, and—"

Verin held up a hand to silence the man's rambling. He stared at the ground, throat tightening with each breath until he wondered if it might not be easier to stop trying. Cormac collapsed before Verin, leaning forward to press his forehead into the ground. "I'm sorry." He repeated the sentiment like a litany that might somehow be able to make things okay.

Verin watched the man in front of him, using Balic's anguish to anchor himself in the present. When he rested a hand on the bald head, a muffled sob answered. "Where is she?" Verin wondered if that hollow sound was his voice. He couldn't summon any tears. There was no rage, no sorrow; only an emptiness that permeated his entire body. Where were all the emotions that he felt when his parents died? He'd heard stories of loss that ran too deeply to be felt right away. It could take days or weeks for the full impact to strike. He'd be okay if it never came.

"This way," Elara answered softly, pity filling her eyes.

Verin patted Cormac's head again before standing to follow the medic. Elara took Verin's arm and led him towards a thicket where Cinlat lay on a blanket. She still wore most of her armor apart from her helmet and a few pieces missing from the left side. Blood stained the bodysuit beneath, as well as the cloth she rested on. Her eyes were closed, which Verin thought was a shame. Cinlat had the most beautiful eyes, and he wouldn't mind seeing them one more time. Even so, Verin made no move to open them. They'd be dull and lifeless now, not the striking white he'd fallen in love with. Long hair fanned around Cinlat's shoulders. Someone had taken special care to ensure that she looked presentable.  _Probably Elara_ , he thought detachedly, logical mind fighting for precedence.

Kneeling next to his wife, the bounty hunter removed his gloves and ran his fingers over her face. Death had already leached the warmth from her skin. The absent emotions from earlier slammed into Verin like a fist, doubling him over. Elara reached for his shoulders, but Verin shook her off. Grief, rage, and fear tore through him, vying for dominance as the world shattered around him. Cinlat was gone. She wasn't injured or sleeping, she was  _dead._ His wife would never speak, or laugh, or roll her eyes at him again. Verin clutched his chest as agony ripped him apart from the inside. He wanted to scream, or kill, or follow her into the darkness. But, his body remained stationary, managing only a few pathetic gasps.

One thought reverberated through the hunter's mind as he struggled to regain control: they should have started that farm on Manda'yaim. Now, it was too late.

 **Coalition Command Base  
** **Two Hours Later**

Jorgan resisted the urge to run to Fynta and pull her into a tight embrace when she came up the ramp. Elara had returned alone from where they left Cinlat's body, her eyes glassy. She reached Balic just as he managed to catch his breath. The big man lost his composure again when he wrapped his arms around his wife. Jorgan debated going to Verin, but he remembered what Fynta had said about how their family handled loss. A fight between Cathar and Mandalorian wasn't what the alliance needed at the moment.

Seeing Fynta, knowing that she was alive and well, almost overwhelmed Aric. Her brows furrowed when he put a hand on her shoulder, then rose when she saw the look on Cormac's face. "Who is it?"

"Cormac and Cinlat were attacked while out on patrol," Jorgan paused in an attempt to find the most tactful approach. His predetermined method of delivery having fled the moment he saw his wife. Fynta saved him the trouble.

"Oh no." The major searched the room frantically. "Where is Verin?"

Jorgan nodded in the direction of the makeshift memorial and followed Fynta's run at a respectful walk to give her privacy. When he peeked around the bushes, she sat on the ground alone, stroking the bounty hunter's hair. Verin was nowhere to be seen.

"Her rippers are gone," Fynta commented absently. "So's her helmet." After a moment, realization filled her eyes. "Verin's going to run."

"Should we let him?" Jorgan asked. Fynta shook her head as she clambered to her feet. If she went after her brother, Aric planned to go as well. "I've got the coordinates to their ship. If you're going to stop him, we have to hurry."

Fynta informed Theron that they'd be back as she mounted the speeder bike she'd returned from the field on. She didn't complain when Jorgan climbed on behind her or closed his hands around her waist; Fynta simply kicked the vehicle into motion before anyone could object.

They sped through the overgrown jungle in silence for what felt like an eternity. When Fynta spoke, there was a distant note to her voice that troubled Jorgan. "Revan's the real deal," she commented. "I met his Force ghost in that cave. He had some interesting things to say." Jorgan opened his mouth to respond, then snapped it shut. He had expected the unbridled anger from the mining prison, not this distant coldness. He thought he felt a slight tremor under his hands, and tightened his arms just so that she knew he understood.

The Mantis came into view as Verin disappeared up the loading ramp. Fynta leaped off the bike before it came to a complete stop, causing it to lurch when the emergency air brakes kicked on. She threw her helmet to the side, shouting curses as she ran. "Dajun'ir bah tok'kad, hut'uun?" Jorgan recognized one word in that sentence.  _Hut'uun, coward_. Fynta had once explained that it was the worst insult in Mando'a. What the hell was his wife thinking?

Verin reappeared at the airlock, brandishing one of Cinlat's rippers. Fynta stopped, hands held up in surrender, and glared at her brother from the bottom of the ramp. Jorgan tensed and unclipped the strap that secured his sidearm. Verin wouldn't shoot his sister, right?  _Grief does crazy things to people_ , a voice whispered in the back of Jorgan's mind.

The two stared at one another, the tension thickening the already sticky jungle air. "Olaror norac," Fynta pleaded, her voice softer this time. While she hadn't fully given up the Mandalorian lifestyle, her job necessitated that she speak mostly Basic. Jorgan didn't understand the words, but her body language spoke volumes. She took half a step forward, never lowering her hands. Whatever conversation she hoped to have with Verin, she still took him seriously as a threat. Jorgan's finger itched against his weapon, wondering if he'd be fast enough if he needed it. Or brave enough.

"Tion'jor?" Verin kept the blaster leveled on Fynta, but Jorgan noted that his finger curled outside the trigger guard. It occurred to the Cathar that Verin might not be threatening his sister, but using Cinlat's weapon as a visible reminder of what he'd lost. He wanted Fynta to see and feel his pain.

As the Cathar listened to a conversation that he couldn't understand, he realized that Fynta hadn't had a chance to come to grips with her own feelings over Cinlat's death. A few moments weren't enough, she'd chosen to focus on reaching her brother instead of the death of what amounted to her sister.

Verin yelled at Fynta, lowering the weapon while he pointed at her with his free hand. The man's face turned crimson in his rage. Fynta responded in kind, picking up what looked to be a droid stabilizer unit and threw it at him. Everything happened so quickly that Jorgan didn't have time to react.

Verin knocked the projectile away and dove at Fynta. He didn't take a running start, simply launched himself down the ramp to land on top of her. Fynta used the momentum in her favor and flipped them both, forcing them apart once they hit the ground. She came up in a crouch, waving for Verin to strike again. "Be'mirjahaal."

That phrase was the only thing that kept Jorgan from drawing his blaster. He'd heard it once before, after the prison asteroid. Fynta explained that Mandalorians had a certain mindset that they aimed for after a particularly traumatic loss. A moment when their emotions settled, allowing them to think straight again. Often times, it required violence to push back the anger.

 _So, that's her play._  Fynta wanted to goad Verin into a fight to focus him instead of releasing an unstable force into the galaxy. The Cathar didn't like it, but he wouldn't interfere this time. He respected his wife, and gripped the edge of the speeder bike in an attempt to show the same respect for her customs.

Verin lunged for his sister again, moving faster than Jorgan expected a man of his size to be capable of. He pelted her upraised forearms with blows while straddling her stomach. Finally, the hunter ripped his gloves off with a shouted curse. When Fynta lowered her guard to do the same, and Verin's fist connected with her cheek in a spray of crimson.

Jorgan tensed, fingers tightening around his chosen anchor until his knuckles screamed. This was the second time he'd been forced to sit back and watch someone strike his wife. Everything inside the Cathar demanded that he should haul the offender away and beat the hell out of him. But, this was as important to Fynta as it was Verin.

Fynta brought her knee up, connecting with Verin's lower back, and arched her hips to throw him off. They shed armor as they circled, ending in their undersuits. When the two collided again, Jorgan couldn't follow the blur of fists and kicks. Only growls told him when one connected. He'd fought Fynta once, but watching the way she moved with Verin, who was on par with, if not above, her skill level, sat like a rock in his stomach.

The clearing filled with the sounds of grunts and flesh striking flesh. Fynta hit the ground, rolling away a second before Verin's foot made contact with her face. She grabbed his leg and pulled it out from under him as she came up to the balls of her feet. Verin fell to one knee, and Fynta jumped on his back. She wrapped one arm around his neck, using the other to lock it into place. Whereas Jorgan might have struggled to get free, Verin relaxed his muscles and flipped them both. His weight drove the breath from Fynta's lungs and broke her hold. Verin rolled away from the stunned major. Before Fynta could regain her wits, he had his knee on her stomach, and a hand around her throat.

They glared at one another, their dripping blood and sweat mingling in the dirt. Fynta's hands wrapped around Verin's wrist as he held her to the ground like an unruly akk pup. Neither made a move to get up. Finally, when Jorgan was on the verge of interfering, Verin let go. The man pushed himself up without a word, offering Fynta a hand, then trudged back to the ship.

Fynta gasped for air when she sat up, and Jorgan rushed to her side. He had just squatted to check her injuries when a water bottle hit the ground by her leg. "One condition," Verin stated, his voice perfectly level despite the fact that he wiped blood from his nose. "I get to pull the trigger on the chakaar."

Fynta unscrewed the cap, chugging the water until the bottle was empty. She held it up in a salute to her brother. "Skira." Now  _that_  was a word Jorgan knew all too well.

**Coalition Command**

Fynta's ribs ached when she leaned over the holotable. Jorgan had done his best to clean the wounds that Verin had given her before they returned to command. Still, Theron's jaw dropped as soon as she entered the alcove, and Elara began digging through her medical kit. For some reason, they all looked to Fynta to make the final decision on when and how to infiltrate the Revanite Compound. Her instinct was to charge straight in. They had killed Cinlat, her  _sister_ , and broken her brother. Fynta would tear that place apart and kill every person in it.

"Fynta?" Theron took a tentative step towards her, but stopped at a look from Aric. A single glance at Cormac settled the major's mind. "I'm giving my squad the night off," she answered without making eye contact with any of them. "We'll infiltrate in the morning and finish this thing."

Surprisingly, no one objected. Fynta motioned for Havoc to move out. Verin hadn't gotten one more night with Cinlat, but she'd be damned if her troops were denied that privilege. The somber mood followed Fynta until only she and Jorgan remained. She took a shaky breath and looked up at the dark sky. "Everything changes tomorrow, Aric. Win or lose."

The Cathar joined her to stare at the stars. The constellations in this part of the galaxy were completely alien, but they glittered like diamonds. "Then we should make the most of tonight." His voice sounded thick, raw around the edges. He hadn't said anything about her fight with Verin, but she saw the concern behind his eyes. It occurred to her that he knew Cinlat too. The whole squad had lost a sister, not just she and Verin.

Fynta nodded towards the ship. "I'll bet no one will even notice." She wasn't sure if she wanted to sleep or take advantage of Aric's thinly veiled offer. His hand slipped into hers as they wove through the shadows around the edge of the camp. By the time her boots touched the ramp, Fynta had her answer.

**Republic Forward Camp**

Balic leaned against a tree with his arms around Elara. They'd found an overhang away from the lights of the camp where they could look out over the wilds of Yavin 4. He squeezed Elara tighter as the image of Cinlat's final moments haunted his thoughts. She'd said nothing. There had been no final words for Balic to bring back for Verin, not even a curse that her life had ended so ironically. The woman had known she was dying when she shoved her blasters into Cormac's hand, but he had been too slow to catch on. Cinlat had slipped into the Void as quietly as she lived.

Elara sighed as she lay across Balic's lap, and the selfish part of him was glad that she'd be forced to stay behind to take care of the wounded. Cormac wasn't sure if he could handle losing her. The mere thought of it made his eyes burn with tears he'd already wept.

"It's actually quite lovely from up here," Elara murmured sleepily. "The untamed wilderness is so alive. I always loved looking out over the wilds on Dromund Kaas."

Balic stroked her hair. Elara hadn't spoken a word about Cinlat, or about the wounds that she treated on both Fynta and Verin when they returned. Cormac knew the signs of a scrap when he saw them. The expression on Jorgan's face when he shrugged off their questions was answer enough. Balic forced himself to breathe in, then out, before trying to lighten the mood. He couldn't leave Elara with the impression of a glum husband the night before such an uncertain assault. "I'll take you camping in some of the mountain ranges on Alderaan. You'd like it." Balic tried to focus on her, instead of wondering what Verin was doing.

"Yes, I think that sounds nice." Elara sat up to kiss Cormac's neck gently, then settled in to watch the moon move across the sky.

**D-5 Mantis**

Cinlat's helmet sat on the console in front of the pilot's seat. She'd always been a better pilot than Verin. All the toggles were still set to her preferences, and he saw no reason to change it. He flexed his hand, feeling the grinding of bone under skin. Verin smiled, Fynta had a shabbing hard head. Elara hadn't fussed at him the way she should have for busting himself and their commander up on the eve of battle.

"I won't stop until he's dead, Cin," Verin promised the helmet. "I made some calls, and our brothers and sisters agreed to fight in your memory." He could almost envision her nod of approval. While his wife hadn't been one for theatrics, she'd always taken revenge seriously. He remembered what she'd done to Taro Blood after finally catching up with him. The news had spread like wildfire through the Mandalorian community. She'd left him to rot in a cage, destroyed with a doomed ship because he wasn't worthy of combat.

"You'll live on, cyare. They're bringing an entire clan to take this shabuir down. No matter what Vizla said on Rishi, she jumped at the invitation."

Verin leaned forward and placed his hand on the top of Cinlat's helmet. He'd keep her blasters and buy'ce as a memorial, but a warrior shouldn't be separated from her armor. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes to an ache he'd never experienced before. When he opened them again, Verin's resolve firmed. "Almost time."

**Imperial Line**

Zolah's datapad chirped with the receipt of an answer that she hadn't expected to come. Running her thumb over the device, she smiled at Theron's reply. "His exact words are,  _I'm going to the Void anyway, why not?_ " Zolah smirked. Why not, indeed.

It had been Vector's idea to invite the SIS agent to their tent for a night cap. Granted, the alcohol they planned to serve Theron made a terribly offensive gesture of goodwill, but it was the best they could do on short notice. After the day he'd had, Zolah doubted the man would complain.

Vector told Zolah about the pleasant chat that he'd shared with the Republic agent, and she'd been more than a little surprised to learn that he stayed for dinner. Zolah cast her husband a rueful smile and accused him of being the worst matchmaker in the history of poorly written love stories. Vector merely shrugged, but she saw the smugness on his angular features.

When Theron arrived, he looked much worse than expected. News traveled fast in such a distrusting community; everyone knew of the famed bounty hunter's death. Zolah looked at Vector, who subtly shook his head. Instead of attempting to cajole Theron, she plopped a bottle in front of him.

"Please tell me this is hyperdrive core coolant," the man grumbled after flopping onto the floor beside Zolah. "Because I'm not sure I can handle anything lighter."

"Regular beer, I'm afraid." Theron shrugged and tipped the bottle up. He didn't lower it until only a thin sheen of liquid covered the bottom. Zolah sipped at her own as she watched the Republic agent, and Vector retrieved another before joining them.

Theron squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose when Zolah rested her hand on his thigh. The contact wasn't meant to be seductive, rather soothing in some way. She pulled it back when she realized how foolish that notion was. A cipher agent calming the nerves of a Republic spy. It was laughable.

Theron sighed and opened his eyes again, offering Zolah a weak smile of appreciation. It struck her how pleased seeing that smile made her. Then, it vanished and he poured the last of his beer down his throat. "Tomorrow's going to be a hell of a long day," he added, plunking the empty bottle onto footlocker to his right.

Vector nodded, his drink still untouched. "Is there a plan?"

"I think so. Fynta needs to—" Theron stopped as if he were about to say something that he realized at the last moment shouldn't be said in enemy company. He cleared his throat and switched tactics. "Actually, that's why I wanted to talk to you two." He shifted his attention between Zolah and Vector equally, something that the Chiss found unusual. Somehow, Vector had gained Theron's respect in a fraction of the time it took her. She huffed inwardly that it had taken her two whole weeks to get more than a false flirt out of him.

"I'm going with Havoc Squad to confront Revan tomorrow," Theron stated plainly. "Call it familial duty, revenge, whatever, but I need to be there."

Zolah nodded her understanding. After Hunter had her tortured on Corellia, she vowed to be there in person to see his end. It had been a distinct thrill to pull the trigger on the sadistic woman herself. Theron needed to see Reven destroyed before the nightmares would end. "Someone has to coordinate between the different attack groups, I need a separate mediator for command and the medical teams each.

Zolah set her drink down and propped her chin in one hand. "I'll handle the battle groups, and Vector can take care of medical." She paused, hesitating over her next question. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather have someone from the Republic involved?"

Theron shook his head while accepting another bottle from Vector. "You've got the right hardware for the job," he replied, tapping the side of his head to indicate Zolah's implants. "And I've seen you work. I know you can handle this. Plus, there will be techs from both sides to aid you. Oh, and Yuun."

It sounded perfectly logical to Zolah, and she did enjoy working with the Gand. She also had no intention of violating the treaty brokered between Darth Marr and Master Shan before it ran its course. Mostly, because it would annoy Vector to see his work disregarded so callously.

"We will handle this for you," Vector interjected. "But, we do hope that you are careful when the time comes. If Cinlat's death had proven anything, it is that life is too short."

Zolah leaned back, taking in the two men currently sharing her tent, and was surprised to find that she felt perfectly at ease. "To life being too short." The three raised their drinks in a toast to the fallen bounty hunter.

Theron stayed for another hour, only excusing himself when the horizon began to lighten. Zolah followed him out, walking in silence to the unmarked line where Republic territory began and Imperial ended. Theron stopped, gazed at the sunrise, and sighed. "Vector's a good man." He snorted a tired laugh. "Never thought I'd say that about an Imperial."

Zolah tipped her head playfully and kissed Theron's cheek. "Am I still so scary?"

Theron's dark eyes softened when he looked back at Zolah, and she cursed the way her heart leaped at the sight of it. The moment was brief, and a cocky grin soon slid into place. "You're absolutely terrifying," he breathed, voice low. "In an,  _I can't believe the types of fantasies I have about you_ , kind of way."

Zolah smacked his chest, but Theron caught her hand. "I'd regret it for the rest of my life if something happened to one of us tomorrow, and I didn't kiss you."

"Well," Zolah responded, her tone pitched to match his. She tipped her head, textbook flirty, and looked at him through her lashes. "We can't have that."

The way Theron's lips caressed her own drove every thought from Zolah's mind. The kiss was soft and sweet. Yet still insistent when his tongue glided over her lips; nothing like on Rishi. Time stretched into eternity, but it wasn't long enough. Soon, he released her with whispered well wishes and vanished into the shadows.

When Zolah returned to her tent, Vector opened his arms to her. She sank against him, pulling herself closer to feel his warmth against her skin. They would be in command tomorrow, she knew Vector would be safe. Still, the Chiss couldn't help but worry through the possibilities that it  _could_ have been him on that patrol instead of Cinlat. Zolah pushed the thoughts away, banishing them to the corner of her mind that she refused to shed light on. The things there were made of monsters who would consume her if given the chance.

Vector settled them into the blankets and kissed the top of Zolah's head. "We believe Agent Shan will return to you tomorrow. For now, sleep. Battle begins in a few hours."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> dajun bah tok'kad, hut'uun [dah-JOON bah toh-KAHD hoo-TOON] Planning to retreat, coward?
> 
> olaror norac[oh-LAR-ohr noh-RAK] come back
> 
> tion'jor [Tee-ON-jor] why?
> 
> mirjahaal [MEER-jah-HAHL] peace of mind, "healing", general term for emotional well-being especially after a trauma or bereavement
> 
> chakaar [chah-KAR] corpse robber, thief
> 
> skira [SKEE-rah] settling scores, revenge. feud (different to vengeance - more personal)
> 
> buy'ce [BOO-chay, BOO-shay] helmet


	53. Coping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated **Explicit**. I battled back and forth with myself on whether or not it was actually necessary to the story and decided that it provides a good frame of reference for how these two very complicated people handle personal grief. **If you have been avoiding any of the previous sex scenes, you'll want to skip to the next chapter,** which I'll be posting back to back in order to be fair to everyone. Possible trigger warning for rough sex.

**Yavin 4  
** **The Thunderclap**

Fynta didn't release Aric's hand as they wove through the shadows towards their ship. In fact, the closer they drew, the tighter her grip became. No sooner than he set foot inside, Fynta slammed his back against the bulkhead. Jorgan barely had time to activate the closing procedure before her fingers frantically unfastened the seals on his armor.

They left a trail of beskar through the ship leading to the main room where Aric pinned Fynta to the wall in a bruising kiss. He hadn't let himself think of Verin or Cinlat, even while helping Elara make the huntress look presentable before summoning her husband. He'd forced it all down and carried on with their work as a good soldier should.

Jorgan's hands slid up Fynta's undershirt, letting his fingertips trace every shiver and pulse beneath her skin. Her life meant more to him than anything else, and Aric wasn't ashamed to admit how thoroughly compromised he was. Once, the question had been whether or not he'd follow her out of the military. Now, it was only a matter of  _when_.

The  _what if's_  rolled through Aric's mind feverishly: What if it had been Fynta instead of Cinlat? What if his wife hadn't woken up from Corellia—at least there he'd been able to fight by her side. Verin got none of that. He hadn't even known his wife was in danger, and she'd died before he got the chance to speak to her again. Jorgan wondered what he would have said.

Aric's hands tightened around Fynta's back, crushing her against his body as if he could hold off that eventuality by his strength alone. She whimpered into his neck, and Jorgan realized he'd squeezed too tight. Loosening his hold, he ran his tongue along her shoulder by way of apology.

"Do it again," Fynta breathed, her teeth grazing his skin. Jorgan's groan of pleasure escaped as a growl of frustration. He shouldn't want to hear her beg, to wring a cry from her lungs, but at the moment, every fiber in his body demanded a dominant approach. Being the force that she was, Fynta's aggression usually quelled this desire. But, when faced with her subservience. . . .

"Verin might have injured your ribs, we can't risk it tonight," Aric rasped, hating the words even as they left his mouth. A good, solid fuck would do them both a world of good right now. His control slipped as he said them.

Fynta shoved Aric so hard that he stumbled backwards. She pointed angrily, her eyes hard. "Don't you dare coddle me, Soldier." Jorgan blinked at his wife as she yanked him against her with enough force that her head hit the bulkhead. Instinctively, Jorgan put his hand between her skull and the metal surface. "Make me forget." Aric searched his wife's face and saw the pain she tried to hide from everyone else.

"Fine." Jorgan barely managed to keep his voice steady. "But, my way." Without waiting on Fynta's answer, Aric spun her against the wall. While one hand pulled her chin towards him for a kiss, the other snaked down her stomach into the front of her pants. Fynta wasn't quite as wet as needed for what he had in mind.

Running his fingers through her folds, Jorgan delighted in the shudder that ran through his wife's body. He teased until her legs quivered. The Cathar shoved his thigh between hers and lifted it enough to force Fynta onto her toes, taking all control from her. Without fully realizing it, he understood what drove her to this reckless coping mechanism. In the far reaches of his mind, he was grateful that it was with him, this time, instead of a faceless stranger. Without warning, he delved two fingers into her depths until his palm lay flat against her mound.

Fynta's breath came in ragged puffs that fogged the bulkhead where her cheek pressed. Aric took his time, his thrusts languid in order to work her up as much as possible. He ran the rough part of his tongue down her neck, stopping to pay particular attention to whichever spot yielded the most favorable response. Jorgan pushed Fynta's braid out of the way to nip at the delicate skin at the base of her skull. She pressed her forehead against the wall, using that small amount of leverage to grind against him. He savored the feeling for no more than a minute before deciding she was ready.

Just as quickly as he'd penetrated her, Aric pulled his fingers free. With a twist of his hands, he spun Fynta towards him, ducked her annoyed swing, and scooped her onto his shoulder. As he walked, Aric tugged her pants the rest of the way down her legs and tossed them to the side.

Jorgan dropped Fynta onto the bed and proceeded to remove the rest of his clothing. He realized in an offhanded way that she hadn't made the first advance towards him. Even as she landed on the mattress, she watched without comment or action, eyes roving over his body. That small act was the sole reason he didn't put a stop to this. She wanted him, but grief weighed down her spirit. The fight with her brother hadn't been enough to soothe it; now, she needed something else to remind her that she was alive. After one particular discussion about limitations between species, Fynta had admitted to her affinity for pain.  _After so long, you become numb to loss and anger,_  she'd explained.  _Pain is an ever present anchor, a reminder that you're still breathing; that you still have work to do._

"Shirt. Off," Jorgan ordered, and was only slightly surprised when she complied without snark.

In moments, they were naked, and Aric leaned over Fynta to place kisses down her stomach. She grabbed his ears to force his head up, glaring suspiciously. "I don't want romance tonight."

"I know." Jorgan patted her hip. "Turn over."

Fynta didn't ask questions, and the lack of spark in her eyes troubled Aric. Once she'd clambered onto her knees, Jorgan realized he hadn't taken her like this since their first, tentative session after Corellia. That had been careful and slow, given that her hip had been stiff from the surgery to attach the prosthetic. Tonight, however, there would be no gentleness; no soft moans of pleasure.

Taking Fynta's hips in hand, Aric squared himself behind her. He pressed the tip of his cock against her opening to check for lubrication, then snapped his hips forward in one, violent thrust. Fynta cried out, dropping to her elbows, and Jorgan repeated the process. He set a steady rhythm at first, testing her endurance and listening for cues that he might really be hurting her.

Fynta remained stubbornly quiet, only the occasional whimper between the vulgar sounds of their bodies colliding. Once, when she let out a choked mewl, Jorgan slowed his pace. Fynta bucked against him, face buried in the mattress. "Harder, damn you," she demanded, voice muffled by the sheet.

Aric considered his wife, their differences physical stamina. "Fynta," he attempted, but stopped when her body trembled under his hands. "Alright, but tell me if it's too much." She shook her head, and Jorgan leaned back to angle himself deeper.

The first thrust wrung a gasp from Fynta, but by the third, she'd fallen silent again. At this pace, Aric feared he'd come before she was ready, and gods, he needed to. Leaning over his wife, Jorgan changed his approach. His hands gripped the blanket under her knees, allowing him to thrust deeper, though not as forcefully. He nibbled and laved Fynta's shoulders, neck, and ears. Aric felt the telltale way her hips began to roll, a sign that she was on the cusp of completion and forestalling it. He sank his teeth into her shoulder, a metallic taste filling his mouth. Fynta's back arched, her muted cry ringing in his ears. He wrapped an arm around her waist and ground against her until the world ceased to exist anymore. Only blissful lack of oxygen as his body reached heights of pleasure that surprised him every time.

Fynta's legs slid from under her until Jorgan lay prostrate on top of his wife. He came down from the high faster than normal with the knowledge that he was probably crushing her. It had been a moment of happy ignorance, but reality crashed around him again. One where Fynta's brother had lost his wife. Havoc a valued member of their team. And Jorgan, a personal friend.

Aric buried his face in Fynta's hair and focused on her scent to ground him. He tried not to think about Verin, alone in his ship. Or the terrible emptiness he felt at knowing that Cinlat would never wake up. Fynta's shoulders moved beneath Jorgan's chest, and he started to rise when she gasped one word.

"Stay."

Fynta's voice shook, and Aric realized those were quiet sobs that made it difficult for her to breathe, not his weight. "Please, stay a little longer." Her tone pitched barely above a whisper, and the pain in it terrified him.

Jorgan settled over Fynta again, wrapping his arms around her shoulders so that he could prop on his elbows. He covered her with his body as if shielding her from the terrors that lurked beyond their ship. Placing gentle kisses along the abused skin of her shoulder, Aric eased out of her, wincing when she sucked in a breath.

Fynta mumbled what sounded like a litany, or maybe a prayer. It ended with Cinat's name, and she took a deep breath. When his wife fell silent for a few minutes, Jorgan risked a gentle nudge. "Let's clean up," he whispered, brushing his lips against her ear. "Maybe a shower, then some sleep."

Fynta nodded wordlessly.

Aric pushed off his wife, relief flooding him at the lack of blood on the sheets. Helping Fynta to her feet, he supported her with an arm around her waist while they showered. By the time they finished, Fynta had slipped into a state numb of awareness that they were both all too familiar with.

As they remade their bed, Fynta sighed. "She's really gone, Aric." When she met his gaze, her eyes shone in a dramatically lighter blue. Then, she closed them slowly and nodded as if counting. Jorgan let her. Fynta was no stranger to grief. None of them were. They'd watched those closest to them die time and again. Except this time, Havoc would stand together. They would endure.

Jorgan settled onto the bed and waited. When Fynta's eyes opened again, he beckoned her closer. She curled against him, head pillowed on his arm, and wrapped her fingers in his fur. "Come home to me, tomorrow," she murmured. "I can't lose you too."

Aric kissed Fynta's head. He refused to make promises that he couldn't keep, and settled for a half truth. "I'll be by your side the entire time."


	54. Indestructible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we get to battle Revan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can thank the band Disturbed for the title. This song makes for epic fight music. More notes at the end.

**Coalition Command Base**

Fynta left Aric's bed before sunrise to discuss battle tactics with the soldiers camped nearby. She didn't care what colors they wore so long as their suggestions were sound. Jorgan made an attempt to join her, but Fynta wanted to represent neutrality. If she cornered an Imperial soldier while flanked by a Cathar in Republic armor, they'd be less likely to speak openly. Not to mention the risk of open hostilities. Garza had taught Fynta the value of the political long game, at least.

Fynta felt invigorated. The twinge of pain from the night before kept her focused. In truth, she'd been surprised that her husband had agreed to the request so willingly. A sad smile touched her lips as the first glimmer of dawn peeked through the trees. Fynta had only realized how deeply Cinlat's death affected Aric after they'd settled down to sleep. He'd held her close, stroking her hair as a purr rumbled in his chest. The stubborn shabuir could deny the actuality all he liked, but Fynta found the deep vibration soothingly familiar.

Fynta had muttered her the traditional Prayer of Remembrance into the sheets when exhaustion finally pulled down her emotional defenses. Aric had asked about it while Fynta dressed the next morning. He requested that she repeat it on his behalf once she'd explained its importance. The fact that her husband respected her belief system even though he didn't share it, meant more than Fynta could express.

As the hours dragged on, the sun climbed higher over the horizon, bathing the world in light. By 06:00, Fynta had a working plan. Theory might have been a better word for it, but there was one more person that the major needed to speak with before she was ready to present her proposal to the war council.

Fynta found Kaeto Vaa meditating on a sunny ridge overlooking the encampment. She stopped short of calling out to the Togruta when a second figure came into view. The red skin on the man's back shimmered in the rising sun, and Fynta stood transfixed as Sith and Jedi sat completely motionless together. She recognized him, though only from a distance. However, it hadn't taken long to learn of the Emperor's Wrath.

Darth Kozen took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder. "We have a visitor, Kaeto."

_We?_  Fynta thought, carefully keeping her face passive to hide her thoughts.

The Sith stood, collected his shirt, then pulled it over his head. "I gather that it is not my company she seeks. I will meet you on the battlefield." Kozen tipped his head politely as he strolled down the hill, hands clasped behind his back.

Fynta stared stupidly after the Sith until Kaeto cleared her throat. "Good morning, Major. Your injuries look better." The Jedi winced when Fynta turned towards her. "Or, perhaps it is only the light." Fynta had yet to see a mirror, but more than one soldier had pulled a face when they saw her. If pain was any indicator, she guessed she sported a black eye and swollen jaw.

"Did I interrupt something?" Fynta asked before she could stop herself. There was an air of familiarity between the two Force users that shouldn't exist.

"We were meditating. It is difficult to explain to one who is Force blind, but Darth Kozen provides a  _unique_  experience," Kaeto answered, rising more gracefully than a woman her size had any right to.

Fynta couldn't help herself. After everything that had happened since yesterday afternoon, she needed the distraction. "So, you've known each other a while?"

Kaeto nodded as she buckled on the belt containing her duel lightsabers. "Our journeys have been intertwined for some time now." Lavender eyes met Fynta's. "I hope that I can count on your discretion?"

"How discrete are we talking?" Fynta hedged.

Kaeto thought for a moment, then smiled. "The,  _this goes against everything the Jedi code stands for_ , level of secrecy."

Fynta's eyebrows rose despite years of training to control her body's reactions. She closed some of the space between them and lowered her voice. "Master Vaa, are you telling me that you're sleeping with a Sith?"

"It's a little more complicated than that," the Togruta answered with a wave of her hand.

Fynta snorted a laugh and crossed her arms. "Isn't it always?" Kaeto chuckled and began pulling on her boots. "That is kind of dangerous though, don't you think? Especially given your history?" Kaeto didn't hide the emotional scars that her line of work had left. She'd freely told Fynta about her encounter with the Emperor, and the disastrous outcome that followed.

Fynta had developed a liking for Master Vaa since their first meeting on Makeb. The woman was decisive, fair, and not afraid of getting her hands dirty. The Togruta had earned Fynta's respect when she refused to recall Havoc during a rescue op simply to bolster her own position. Kaeto had thrown logic out the window in favor of saving lives.

Later, the Jedi accepted when Fynta offered to buy her a drink off the record. The Togruta could swear with the best of them, and Fynta wondered if being a Force sensitive had robbed Kaeto of a more fulfilling life as a soldier. The fact that she was sleeping with a Sith really didn't surprise the major the way it should have, but she didn't want to lose such a powerful ally to the madness of the Dark Side.

Kaeto put a hand on Fynta's shoulder. "No more than sleeping with your second in command, I wager." Fynta offered the Togruta a cheeky grin. That was another reason she liked this particular Jedi. Kaeto had a knack for reading the emotions around her and had picked up on the connections within Havoc fairly quickly. She hadn't used it for her own aims or threatened to report them, simply wished them well before parting ways after the evacuation.

"I imagine you sought me out for more than gossip, though." Kaeto straightened to full height, which was roughly that of Cormac, and crossed her arms.

"You know the Emperor better than most," Fynta began. Given Kaeto's experience, and the fact that she'd been partially responsible for the Emperor's current, bodiless state, Fynta couldn't afford not to pick her brain. "How bad are things if we fail to stop Revan today?"

Kaeto sighed, looking across the valley of soldiers below. Her eyes clouded as if transported somewhere else, somewhere unpleasant. "Genocide, Major," she answered after several, long moments. "He is cruel and insane, fueled by a hatred for all things. If Revan returns him to a corporeal state, the Emperor will not rest until we are all eradicated."

"That's what I needed to know." Fynta's plan would get a lot of good soldiers killed. She needed to be sure that their sacrifice would be worth it. "I'll leave you to prepare. Thank you, Master Vaa." Fynta extended a hand, clasping the other woman's forearm as a fellow warrior. "I look forward to fighting by your side again."

**Command Base**

"Forward assault team, you are cleared for the offensive." Zolah watched multiple screens while coordinating the various strike teams during the main battle.

Major Wolfe had opted to take a small contingent to the temple to face Revan, while the majority of their soldiers provided a distraction to pull Revan's army away from the main objective. Fynta had made a bold suggestion that morning, and now each strike team consisted of an equal number of Imperial and Republic forces. Darth Nox and Kozen led teams, along with two Jedi. Zolah found the dynamics between the groups strained and deceptively cordial.

A hand settled on Zolah's shoulder, and she turned to find Vector standing behind her. "You watch them more than the others," he commented with a nod towards the screen where Darth Kozen squatted between Kaliyo and the Togruta Jedi Knight.

Zolah answered Vector's open ended question with a nod. "This may sound strange, but I swear there is something going on between those two." She leaned forward to adjust the image of Kozen and the Jedi. "Watch their body language; it is as if they've known one another for years."

Kozen put his lips close to Kaeto's cheek, clearly speaking in hushed tones. She nodded, then slipped through the dense foliage to regroup with her men. Zolah switched to a different soldier's armor cam and narrowed her eyes at the image. Vector joined her for a closer look. "Is that not the Jedi credited with turning Lord Scourge against the Emperor?"

Zolah nodded and switched to another angle that showed the Sith in question. He had been given charge over Solish and Kozen's apprentices to lead a group of special forces to flank the Revenites once the battle began. "Do you think that is the connection," Zolah asked. "Master Kaeto practically gave Darth Kozen his job as the Emperor's Wrath. Perhaps they have crossed blades before."

"Perhaps," Vector agreed. His lack of speech indicated to Zolah that the man considered the suggestion more than he let on. "Who is that?"

Vector reached across Zolah to point to one of the medical staff. A scruffy looking human with a thick mustache who appeared to be attracting a crowd. Zolah smirked when she realized who the man was. "He is one of Master Vaa's companions; her own, personal doctor. If one were to believe the talk about him, he's quite the rogue."

"Yes." Vector frowned at the image. "We expected as much. Hopefully, he will remember his place once the wounded begin to arrive."

Zolah patted her husband's shoulder before he meandered back to his side of the room, to coordinating with the techs again. Yuun clicked a suggestion, one that Zolah was startled to realize that she understood as clearly as if the Gand spoke in Basic, and Vector nodded his assent.

Blaster fire and the unmistakable sound of lightsabers humming into existence pulled Zolah's attention back to the screens. She watched the assault teams advance into the field to surround the Revanite hideout. A weight settled in her gut. This was it; the battle had begun.  _Be careful, Theron._  The singular thought raced through her mind before being quashed in favor of focusing on the task in front of her. Zolah activated her comm, offering one last glance over her shoulder to find Vector doing the same. They shared a knowing look, then Zolah took a deep breath.

"Blue squadron, attack."

**The Forgotten Terrace**

Jorgan followed Fynta up the ramp and into the crumbling temple. The sun had given way to rain, slicking the stone floor that lay open to an unnaturally dark sky. Torches had been lit, and even though it was mid-morning, the flames threw eerie shadows over the sharp angles of the ruins.

Aric and Fynta had done something that they'd both sworn never to do: they'd said goodbye. Jorgan fell asleep holding his wife, cheek pressed against her hair, savoring every moment. Cinlat's absence served as a stark reminder of how quickly those moments could end, and how precious they would be in the long run. After she returned from speaking with the gathered warriors, Fynta pulled Jorgan somewhere quiet. He swore to watch her back until the end, and she'd replied in kind.

Verin walked on the other side of the major, his beskad spinning in figure eights while he murmured the Mandalorian prayer of remembrance over and over. Balic flanked Jorgan, unable to meet Verin's eyes, while Vik brought up the rear. The Cathar did a quick check on the rest of their group via his HUD. Elara bustled about shouting orders and preparing the triage area. Yuun worked shoulder to shoulder with Zolah and Vector in an effort to coordinate the massive strike that had begun before their shuttle left base.

Fynta sent the largest force into the field as a distraction, while they snuck around the back. The plan had worked, but casualty reports were pouring in. Had it not been for Verin's last minute, and largely unauthorized, call to Shae Vizla, Jorgan worried that they might not have had the numbers. However, the Mandalorians threw themselves into battle with the reckless abandon that one would expect from such fierce warriors.

True to their word, Fynta and Verin wore their armor without helmets. A notion that skira could not be completed unless their adversary looked into their eyes. It was reserved for the lowest of war criminals in their culture, and for once, Aric didn't bother protesting.

Havoc squad stopped on the outer ring of a ceremonial circle. A man stood in the middle, his cloak and hood soaked by the rain. Fynta motioned for her team to hang back while she ventured closer. Only Verin followed.

"Revan." Her voice rang across the emptiness, loud in the lull before the storm.

The man didn't turn, but when he spoke, a chill crawled its way up Jorgan's spine. The voice didn't sound human, it sounded evil. "Your entire army barely managed to drive me back. Do you think you'll be able to face me without them?"

"No soldier fights alone," Fynta responded. On signal, Theron Shan, Darth Marr, Lana, and Master Satele crested the stairs. They spread out, Havoc advancing to take up positions to encircle the target. Shae Vizla had demanded a chance for the kill of the century as payment for the use of her clan, and stood between Marr and Lana. It hadn't taken long for the Wookie to join them as well, ignoring Fynta's order to remain with the ship. While Fynta kept her eyes on the target, Jorgan noted the subtle rise and fall of her shoulders as she sighed.

"Bring as many fools as you like," Revan wheezed. He turned towards them, slow and deliberate. His clothing hung in tatters, while the scarred and dented mask hid his face, the black and red mimicking blood flowing through shadow. This was not the polished Jedi they'd rescued from the Maelstrom prison. "You won't stop what must be done!"

The storm picked up pace, wind roaring from the east to snap at robes and hair alike. Fynta raised her hand and gave the attack order.

Lightning split the sky, surrounding Revan. Jorgan ran for a better sniping position and saw Lana. She hovered half a meter off the floor, eyes glowing like fire as electricity arced from her fingertips into the ground. Jorgan realized that it wasn't coming down, but shooting upwards to envelope the man. He found his spot and put Revan in his crosshairs.

* * *

Once the lightning cleared, Darth Marr burst forth, raining a storm of strikes against the ancient Jedi. His speed impressed Fynta enough that she paused, entranced by the spectacle. Her attention snapped back to the fray when Jakarro rocketed backwards, slamming into Shae, before finally hitting the ground. "Shab, Havoc, fire everything you've got," she ordered and opened up on full auto.

Fynta fired clip after clip, all of her explosives, until she'd been reduced to taking single shots so that her weapon didn't overheat. This fight had already gone on too long. Suddenly, her feet were no longer on the ground, and she hurtled away from her target. She hit one of the ruined pillars and slid down as Darth Marr landed beside her.

The major scrambled to her feet in time to see Revan spin and push his hands towards Vik and Jakarro. Once more, the Wookie had been tossed out of the arena. "He is strong in the Force," Marr rasped, rolling his shoulder and reactivating his blade.

Fynta glanced at the big Sith and raised her weapon again. "Then we need to be stronger."

* * *

Cormac didn't have eyes on anyone other than Revan. The man tossed people around like toys, but each one came back for more. As soon as Shae Vizla's feet hit the ground, she ducked behind Cormac to reload while he sprayed the area with his cannon. He'd never met anyone this hard to kill. Maybe there was something to all that Force nonsense after all. Regardless, he owed the bastard for what he'd done to Cinlat.  _She was a better warrior than you_ , Balic thought angrily, but he wasn't sure if the reprimand was directed at Revan, or himself.

Cormac caught sight of Theron dodging from pillar to pillar and vaguely wondered what the SIS agent was searching for. The thought vanished when Vizla tackled Cormac to the ground as the boulder behind him exploded into dust. He nodded his thanks and opened fire again, grateful that Elara was safe back at the base.

* * *

"This man needs fluids immediately!" Elara wiped her brow as she tried to stop the bleeding on the Imperial soldier's gut wound. He'd been too close to the blast and shards of droid had ripped through his armor and organs.

"We're running low, sir! We need to ration," one of the medics answered as he carried the tail end of a stretcher past. Elara didn't care whose side he came from; it didn't make the man any less correct. They had taken heavy casualties, and she needed to start battle triaging. One through three for levels of injury; zeros for those unexpected to survive.

"Sedate him so that he isn't in pain," Elara ordered the frazzled nurse at her side. The young woman nodded, and Elara moved across the battlefield. The triage tent had filled to capacity almost immediately, forcing her and other medical staff to bring supplies to the wounded. She'd left Doc, a skilled doctor, though not quite to her tastes, in command while she led the medics that qualified onto the battlefield.

Elara followed the pleading of a Republic Commando. He had suffered severe burns to over ninety percent of his exposed skin. A large portion of his maxilla was exposed, and his right eye was nothing but an empty socket. The rest of his face appeared to be no more than bone and cartilage. Another round exploded near their position, and Elara used her body to cover him. When she leaned back to check his vitals, a weight settled in her gut. She'd found him too late.

* * *

Generally speaking, Verin prided himself on his melee skills. However, that last hit had hurt more than it should, and Darth Marr and Jakarro made getting at Revan difficult anyway. So, he settled for hurling stones. His HUD flashed a warning that he was about to shoot his last miniature rocket, and the flamethrower had sputtered out long ago.

Verin did a quick POV check while he crouched behind a pillar to reload. Fynta faced Revan, he could see the tips of her boots at the bottom of the screen and Theron running towards her. She shifted enough to convince Verin that she was alive. Jorgan had taken up a new vantage since the last time Verin checked, his long rifle firing at controlled intervals. Elara's view was by far the most gruesome; revealing the charred face of a soldier. When she stood, her POV pivoted to show a battlefield littered with corpses. Meanwhile, Cormac shadowed Vizla as if she was the only real thing left in the galaxy. Verin wanted to give the man a supportive word, but he'd remained silent each time they'd been near one another.

Verin felt the urge to check on his aliit constantly. He'd missed Cinlat's moment of death, he couldn't miss theirs. He needed them within sight at all times, as if they would cease to exist if he took his eyes off them. "I'm not giving up, Cin." Verin spun around the pillar to open fire on Revan again. He managed to get off two shots when something hit him hard enough to knock the wind out of him. His back slammed into the far wall, and he slumped to the floor.  _I'm getting too old for this osik._

* * *

Fynta felt someone haul her upright by her armpits and pull her behind a pillar. That last hit had left her head spinning, and it took a couple of seconds for her vision to clear enough to recognize Theron. He leaned around her to fire a few more bolts into the center of the room, then pulled her thigh plate off and jammed an injector into her leg. Fynta hadn't even realized she was hurting until the meds started coursing through her system.

"Together, Beniko!" Master Satele called from the right.

Fynta scrambled to her feet and came around in time to see Lana and Satele lift their arms. Purple lightning engulfed Revan, more brilliant this time. The floor came apart beneath his feet, tossing the masked Jedi into the air and slamming him to the ground again. Fynta watched as Satele raised her hands higher and what was left of the ceiling began to collapse, burying Revan under the rubble.

Everything grew quiet except for the heavy breathing of nearly a dozen people. They were all used up. If Revan got up again, there was nothing they could do about it.

"It—can't be."

Fynta allowed herself a brief moment of optimism. He sounded human; he sounded defeated.

Her hope evaporated when the sky roared with laughter. It crept into her mind, robbing her of any thought other than anguish. The next thing Fynta knew, she and everyone around her were on the ground, too tired to get back up. _What's happening?_

Fynta's blood turned to ice as the sky deepened to black. Then, the laughter spoke.  _"The deaths you've caused. The war you've fueled. It is all mine."_ Revan screamed, tearing through the rubble like a madman, raking bloody furrows down his face. The words resonated so intensely in Fynta's chest that she thought her ribs would crack.  _"The galaxy is mine. It's time I claimed it once more."_  A blinding light shot from the temple's roof and exploded in the upper atmosphere. The world went from pitch black to brilliant white in an instant, searing her eyes. Just as quickly, it vanished.

Fynta took a strangled breath. Her vision cleared, and her body remembered how to move. The major climbed back onto unsteady legs, coughing a few times before she could get the words out. "Sound off. Any injuries?"

"We're fine," Theron answered, helping his mother back to her feet.

Lana and Marr stood side by side, faces angled towards the sky. "It was him," Lana's said, her voice barely a whisper.

Marr nodded. "The Emperor." Those two words in his baritone voice sent a shiver through Fynta.

"How is that possible? We stopped Revan, didn't we?" Cormac asked, and Fynta realized she didn't have eyes on all her troops yet.

"He did not assume a physical form or possess a body, and he left as soon as he appeared." Marr shook his head, a hint of anger bleeding through. "It doesn't make sense."

"Still packs a hell of a punch, though," Vik added, walking back into the circle shaking his head. Jakarro began kicking over the rubble where Revan had collapsed, forgotten in the wake of the Emperor's grand entrance. That made Jorgan and Verin that she hadn't heard from yet. Fynta surveyed the ruins. The temple was a mess, and the Emperor's reemergence had destroyed what little had been standing. Now, it was just a staging arena.

"Looks like we weren't the only survivors." Theron nodded towards the hooded figure that Jakarro lifted by the nape of the neck. "What do we do with him?" The Wookie gave the man a violent shake and rumbled about vengeance. His tone softened when Verin stalked forward, his face a mask of calm.

The bounty hunter held Cinlat's ripper in his hand. No one moved to stop him as he pressed the blaster to Reven's temple and pulled the trigger. The body jerked out of Jarkarro's grasp to crumple to the floor with a disturbing slap. "Skira," Verin repeated. His deep blue eyes, so much like her own, found Fynta and he nodded. "K'oyacyi, vod'ika." It was Verin's way of saying goodbye. He didn't plan to stick around for the after party.

As the bounty hunter turned on his heel, Theron started after him. "What the—"

Fynta snagged Theron by the jacket. "It's better this way. Revan was a mad dog that needed to be put down, not rehabilitated. Three hundred years is long enough." Jakarro nodded his agreement and crossed his arms, giving the body a solid kick.

"What about the Force ghost you met in the cave, the one who told you how to defeat  _that_ Revan in the first place?" Theron waved his arm in erratic circles in the direction of the corpse as his temper reached boiling. This was one area they'd never agreed on. Fynta's job was to neutralize threats; Theron's was to  _acquire_ them.

Fynta shrugged. She couldn't care less what happened to the good half of Revan, no matter how helpful he'd been. This moon was crawling with Force ghosts, so it wasn't like the guy would get lonely. "Jorgan, do you read?" She ignored Theron's protests in favor of locating her husband.

Rubble shifted to Fynta's left, and the Cathar pushed himself up, staggered, then dropped back to one knee. She closed the gap at a jog and found him sitting amongst the stones, shaking his head as if he couldn't quite get the world to situate the way it should. "Are you alright?" She squatted beside him and lifted the helmet off. His pupils were larger than she'd have liked.

"Yeah, I think so." It was a huge relief to hear Aric's voice, even if he sounded dazed. He blinked a couple of times before focusing on Fynta's face. "Head hurts like hell, what did I miss?"

"It's over, mate." Cormac appeared out of nowhere to help Fynta get Jorgan clear of the debris. She slipped on the wet stone, and if it hadn't been for the big man to take his weight, she and Aric would have both ended up on the ground again.

Jakarro offered to take Fynta's spot to aid in getting the Cathar back to the dropship. Fynta accepted, then glanced once more at the corpse that had caused them all so much trouble. Revan may be dead, but now the emperor was loose, and they still had to sort through the mess back at the main camp. The day was far from won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm aware that this is not how the story went, but by now, you all should be used to my penchant for going off canon. To be honest, I simply couldn't come up with a single reason why Fynta or Verin would let Revan live. Neither believe in redemption, and he'd personally wronged them both. After much debate, I realized that the only outcome was for either Revan to die, or them. Since I plan to take them through KotFE, it couldn't be them. ;)


	55. Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No rest for the weary as Fynta is promoted (sort of?) yet again, and Theron and Zolah bid one another farewell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rated M** for the last section.
> 
> This one's a bit shorter, but I really didn't want to keep dragging Yavin out, so decided to just cut it off.

**Coalition Command Base**

Zolah leaned against the terminal and coughed. The ground forces had finally beaten Revan's army back. She hoped that the distraction had been enough to give the temple assault team time to deal with Revan. Reports poured in about a beam of light flashing through the sky, some claiming to have heard a voice. The possibilities of what it could mean sent a cold shiver up Zolah's spine, but she refused to accept failure without concrete evidence.

A hand rested on Zolah's shoulder, and she turned to find Vector standing behind her. "Do we," she paused to clear her throat again. She'd shouted orders non-stop since the first attack and her voice cracked with the strain. "Do we have casualty reports?"

Vector nodded, proffering a datapad. Zolah stared at the screen for a solid minute while she calculated the numbers. Fifty-seven percent casualties, nearly half of which were confirmed dead. Those were outrageous numbers for any battle, but at least they weighed in the alliance's favor.

"Thank you," Zolah sighed, "I'll see that the major receives these."

Vector looked on the verge of speaking when Zolah's personal comm chirped. "Theron?" She answered before she could stop herself.

" _Yeah, we're on the way back. Everyone survived, surprisingly."_  He sounded exhausted, and Zolah heard the hum of chatter in the background. _"How did you come out?"_

Zolah looked at Vector, his expression blank as he slumped into a chair. She couldn't imagine what it felt like to be in his head, to hear so many songs snuffed out at once. Perhaps, putting him on medical duty had been inconsiderate of her, but he'd performed superbly. Zolah responded without taking her eyes off her husband. "We'll discuss it when you return."

" _That bad, huh?"_  Theron responded, then something that sounded like two pots clanging together echoed over the line. _"Ow—what the hell, Fynta, stop it."_  The major railed at Theron for going into a combat situation without proper armor, her voice muted, but words clear enough. The line cut just as Theron began to make his defense.

Zolah shook her head and returned to her husband. "They've done it. Everyone is coming back." Vector nodded, eyes still on the floor. Zolah stepped between his knees to wrap her arms around his shoulders. She pulled his head against her chest and ran her fingers through his hair. There were things that she could say to try to soothe his bruised soul, but each one sounded inadequate in her mind. Vector needed someone capable of compassion, someone who could understand his pain.

"Let me send for Ashara to ease your mind," Zolah finally decided. "I'm sure Darth Nox won't mind me owing her a favor."

Vector's only response was a resigned sigh.

**Triage Tent**

Cormac helped Fynta settle Jorgan on one of the triage beds, then left in search of Elara. The reports he heard weren't uplifting, and she wasn't responding to his hails. Triage had spilled onto the battlefield, and a lot of medics were reported as injured or KIA while attempting to reach patients. Elara already had two medals for rescuing comrades under fire; he knew exactly where she'd be.

Cormac bounced from person to person, asking if they'd seen his wife, but everyone was either too distracted, or they simply didn't know. He could feel panic rising in his chest and nearly jumped out of his skin when someone touched his arm. "Come on, we'll find her."

Fynta took Cormac's arm, pulling him towards the speeders, and he climbed on grudgingly. Balic didn't want to check the battlefield; that's where all the dead medics were. He wasn't as strong as Verin; he'd fall apart if they found Elara's body. Cormac intentionally avoided the Bios program, too afraid of what he'd find.

The trip out to the battlefield felt eternal until Fynta parked on the edge of the main encampment. Suddenly, Cormac faced an uncertain reality all too soon. Fynta plowed through the crowds as she asked about Elara. A couple of people nodded and pointed, while others shook their heads. Balic trailed numbly along in the major's wake, knowing that if anyone could get answers, it was the boss.

A shrill whistle brought Cormac out of his fog. Fynta had her thumb and forefinger to her mouth, waving at him. He started towards her, and by the time he reached the major, he was at a flat run.

"This man is stable, get him back to camp immediately and have him prepped for surgery." Elara wiped her hands on a filthy cloth while she divvied out tasks to haggard looking medics. Cormac's knees felt weak as he stared at the most important woman in the galaxy. He didn't even need to talk to her, just know that she was alive.

Fynta cleared her throat, and Elara spun. "Major!" Elara threw her arms around the other woman, and Cormac had the distinct pleasure of watching Fynta go through the stages of shock before awkwardly returning the embrace. Elara only withdrew when she spotted Balic. His wife leapt into his arms, holding tightly around his neck. Balic squeezed her, unwilling to let go even though he knew they were causing a scene. He should feel ashamed of himself. Not everyone received good news about their loved ones today.

"I'm so glad you're safe. I was worried," Elara whispered. "I'll be done here soon. Why don't you go back and rest. Have you been seen to yet?"

Cormac almost laughed even though there wasn't a single thing funny about standing in the midst of a hundred dead or wounded soldiers. He lifted his hand to wipe something dark from Elara's cheek, unsure if it was blood or dirt. "I think I'll wait for my personal physician if it's all the same to you. I can stick around to help with the heavy lifting."

"If you're staying here, I need to get back. Jorgan wasn't exactly being cooperative when I left, and we need to figure out what to do next." Fynta heaved a sigh as she scanned over the battlefield. "All of this, for nothing." Cormac watched her stalk back to the speeder and realized that she was right. They'd lost all these men, lost Cinlat, and the Emperor returned anyway.

**Medical Tent #5**

Jorgan's ears were still ringing. One of Master Satele's stray boulders had scored a direct hit to his helmet. Fifteen years in the military without a single concussion; four years under Fynta's command, and he had three.

"Captain." Elara rushed forward, covered in blood, with her normally tidy hair looking frayed. "Have you been seen yet?" She shined a light in Jorgan's eyes and turned his face before he could answer. All the while, Cormac looked on with a cheeky grin.

"I'm fine, Dorne." Jorgan tried to push her hands away, but she clicked her tongue in annoyance. He knew better than to fight back when she was in that kind of mood. Havoc women were to be obeyed when they resorted to non-verbal cues.

"I read that you had a concussion and a bruised clavicle, are you in pain anywhere else?" Dorne asked, pulling out an equally blood-spattered datapad. A cold chill settled over Jorgan, and he wondered what name belonged to that particular stain.

Shaking the grim thoughts away, Jorgan raised a questioning eyebrow at Cormac while Dorne was distracted. "A lot of the medics ended up on the battlefield assessing the wounded. Give you one guess where ours was," Cormac replied. As much as she grumbled about having to stitch Fynta up, Elara was more like her than she would ever admit. If the Havoc medic saw an injured soldier, she forgot about her own mortality in a rush to be sure they didn't meet their end. Just like on the Gauntlet.

"How's the boss?" Cormac asked, head swiveling with a look of surprise. "I thought she'd be here, keeping an eye on you."

"I haven't seen Fynta since she dropped me off," Jorgan answered. "She said there was a meeting to wrap things up and make sure we didn't all start firing on one another now that Revan's gone." Jorgan had tried to go with her, but Fynta ordered him to submit to a medical evaluation. At least his head had stopped spinning.

The triage tent grew quiet as the sound of nearly a hundred voices died, leaving only the beeping of machines and the occasional whimpers of the wounded. A slow tide of men and women stood, both Imperial and Republic, as someone made their way through the makeshift hospital. Jorgan expected to see Grand Master Satele or Darth Marr, but it didn't surprise him that much when Fynta broke through the crowd. She met Jorgan's eyes before turning back to look at the men and women around her, and they all snapped off a salute.

Jorgan couldn't see Fynta's face, but he could tell she was way out of her comfort zone by the rigid set of her spine. However, when she spoke, her voice carried over the mass with a strength that made him smile. "You all made history today. You should be proud, and we'll remember those who sacrificed to make it happen. As you were."

Seemingly as one, everyone turned back to their previous tasks, and Fynta let out a shaky breath. Cormac slapped her on the back. "Careful, boss, that was a little wordy."

"Shabuir," Fynta muttered in response before turning her attention to Dorne, "Is the captain fit for duty?"

Dorne eyed Jorgan for a moment before nodding. "Light duty, sir."

"That's all I need." Fynta pulled on Aric's arm to get him to his feet and didn't let go. "Cormac, help Yuun and Vik pack up. Elara, finish here and meet us aboard the Thunderclap. We're leaving first thing in the morning." They both nodded, and Cormac gave Dorne a kiss on the cheek before squeezing back through the crowd while Elara moved further in to evaluate patients.

"Where have you been?" Jorgan asked, leaning closer to his wife while they navigated the cramped space.

"The Supreme Chancellor wanted a word. She wasn't thrilled with our excursion, but she's allowed Theron back into the SIS." Fynta and Jorgan finally broke through the crowd and into a somewhat open clearing. The major sighed, eyes closed. "I've been named the Primary Military Advisor to a new joint task force for hunting down the Emperor." Jorgan raised a brow at his wife when she wouldn't meet his gaze. "I was kind of hoping you'd want to come with me."

Aric snorted, then regretted it when his head swam. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because this effectively takes me off the front lines unless we find the chakaar." Fynta stomped around to stand in front of Jorgan, hands on her hips while she glared at her boots. "We'll be mapping Wild Space trying to root him out. I think they plan to split Havoc up."

Jorgan took a minute to process everything. It would be a colossal mistake on the Republic's part to disband Havoc, but that had never stopped the bureaucrats before. Jorgan put a hand on his wife's shoulder, careful to keep an appropriate amount of space between them. "I go where you go, major. You'll need someone to watch your six."

Fynta heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Aric." She draped his arm over her shoulder again, and Jorgan leaned into her more than was strictly necessary. "Lana has already taken off with Marr, but the two factions are leaving men behind to study this place. They are claiming it as neutral ground."

Jorgan huffed a laugh that hurt his ribs. "We'll see how long it lasts."

"The good news is that Agent Holran has decided not to kill me. She claimed that I'm  _more interesting alive_." Jorgan snorted, not sure he believed that the cipher agent would simply drop a vendetta that easily. "On another note, I found out who Theron's father is." Fynta stared straight ahead, keeping her voice low.

The Cathar's ears twitched, interest officially peaked. "How'd you manage that?" Jorgan had wondered more than once what kind of man could make a Jedi like Satele Shan forget her vows.

"Something Theron said during the briefing," Fynta continued. "Then, he appeared via holo alongside Saresh."

They limped along towards the Thunderclap in silence until Jorgan finally prodded. "And?"

"Jace Malcom."

Jorgan stopped and looked down at Fynta. "As in Colonel Malcom from Alderaan; original Havoc Squad commander." She nodded. "The new Supreme Commander of the Republic army is Theron Shan's father?"

"My thoughts exactly," Fynta remarked as she steered Jorgan towards the ship. "I can see it now, though. He's got a lot of his father's personality."

Malcom had been promoted a year earlier, after Rans retired. The old man had taken down Rakton and decided he was done. Jace Malcom was as big a war hero as the Republic had. There hadn't been a need for Special Forces before the Sack of Coruscant. After that, people started to take notice, and Havoc had been embedded in the heart of the fighting on Alderaan during the early days of the Galactic War. In fact, Malcom was the one who  _earned_  the call sign for Havoc Squad with his unorthodox approach. Afterward, he'd been promoted to colonel and remained on Alderaan to help out with the impending civil war. Command had fallen to Kardan, then Tavus, and eventually, Fynta.

Jorgan mulled over the information, trying to recall anything in Theron's actions that reminded him of the legendary military commander. Nothing came to mind. "Where is he now?" Aric wanted to take a closer look at the SIS agent, to see if there was any physical resemblance.

Fynta offered a devilish smile. "He had his own farewells to deliver."

**Coalition Command Base**

"This is it," Theron said, leaning against the holotable. Everything had been powered down and packed up. All that was left was to pile onto the ships and go their separate ways. Theron had a shuttle standing by, a simple, one-manned vessel to deliver him to his mother's command ship for an incredibly awkward trip back to Coruscant.

Theron hesitated, though he knew it had nothing to do with the dread he felt about being trapped in hyperspace for seventy-six hours with Satele. Well, not completely. Pushing himself off the table, Theron turned to find Zolah standing directly behind him. It had taken a while, but he finally got used to reading those solid, red eyes. Something he'd never managed with his old mentor. The irony being, spending so much time around Zolah made reading Vector's expression easier as well.

There was a man that Theron didn't fully understand. He'd gotten the distinct impression that Vector was flirting with him before he excused himself to ready the ship, which normally, Theron wouldn't have minded. However, one Imperial was more than enough trouble for now. At least, that's what Theron continued to tell himself. Open relationship aside, he simply couldn't get involved. He shouldn't even be here with Zolah, yet he made no move to leave.

Zolah's head tipped to the side, and all Theron could think of was how soft those dark blue lips felt against his. He craved more of what they'd shared in the pre-dawn shadows before he left to take on Revan. It was a bad idea, maybe the worst he'd ever had. So, Theron opted for the cowardly way out, leaving the ball completely in Zolah's court. "Back to being enemies, I guess."

Zolah took a step closer, only a breath of air between them, and Theron smiled down at her. Maybe, if it wasn't  _completely_  his idea, then it wasn't really treason, right? After all, even Jedi Masters scratched an itch sometimes. He veered away from that thought before it could lead back to his mother and Jace.

"We don't have to be enemies," Zolah purred. "Not yet, at least."

"I kind of hoped you'd say that." Theron jerked his head towards the shuttle as he pushed away from the table. He'd barely hit the hatch close button before he had Zolah pinned to the wall. His kisses were rushed and needy, while his hands shoved her long jacket off of her shoulders.

Zolah Holran was thin and tall, but Theron felt the lean muscles moving beneath her skin as she worked her arms free. The garment clunked to the floor, and Theron glanced at it momentarily. She shrugged, then repeated the process with his, kicking the famed red jacket away with a muttered statement about it painting a bullseye on his back. Theron opened his mouth to argue that it had been fashionable during his last gig, but Zolah convinced him that there were more important things to focus on. He grunted against her lips when she pushed too hard against his still sore ribs while trying to remove his shirt.

Theron's fingers fumbled with the buttons of Zolah's vest, then the hem of her shirt. Breaking their kiss to pull the fabric over her head, he took a moment to let his eyes trail over her exposed skin. Zolah ran her hands through the dark hair on his chest to lace behind his neck. "We're on a schedule, Agent Shan." He groaned when she pulled his body against hers. Theron couldn't give two kriffs about the schedule, truce, or emperor at the moment.

Unfortunately, that didn't make Zolah's statement any less true. "This is a bad idea," Theron breathed in between kisses, letting his hands explore what his eyes couldn't. "A really,  _really_  bad idea," he repeated when the snaps on his pants sprang open.

"Don't think about it then," Zolah whispered, tipping her head back so that he could suck at the skin above her collarbone. He grunted a response, but had otherwise given up on words.

They'd taunted and teased one another throughout Rishi and Yavin, but at some point, things had changed. Zolah had ceased to become a mark and had slipped into ally status. Which should have sent him running in the opposite direction, not pressing closer.

Zolah's suggestion of a timeline lost any meaning as they undressed one another, finally coalescing with Theron supporting Zolah's weight as he drove her into the wall. They panted together, gasping each other's names and leaving raw marks on one another's bodies, until both trembled from the much-needed release.

Theron still had Zolah's legs hooked over his forearms, leaning heavily against her with his face buried in her shoulder. Once he'd steadied himself, he lowered her to the floor again. Zolah's hair slicked against her forehead, and Theron prided himself on being able to make the seasoned cipher agent flush such a pretty shade of blue.

Theron kissed her forehead, pushing a few of the sweat soaked strands back into their usual position. "Just like I thought, good at everything," he chuckled.

Zolah took a deep breath. "I do hope this won't be our last dalliance, Theron Shan."

Taking a step away from her, Theron bent to collect his clothes. "Well, I've been reinstated in the SIS, and you've got an intelligence agency to run." He tapped his implants by way of explanation. He'd listened in on her conversation with Darth Marr. It was his job, after all. "I'm sure we'll see each other again."

Theron grabbed Zolah's shirt from where he'd discarded it and tossed it to her. The Chiss pulled the garment over her head, gathering the rest of her clothing in contemplative silence. He kept his back to her while tugging on his pants. "It's a nice name, you know."

"What is?" Zolah asked from behind him. Theron heard the zipper on her jacket and looked over his shoulder to offer a cheesy grin.

"Zola'hes'naru." Theron had wondered about her name more than once, but when she'd breathed it in his ear; it had been his undoing.

Unfortunately, Theron knew he'd screwed up when the Chiss's face morphed from flirty to horrified.  _Kriff, she didn't realize she said it._  "Zolah, wait." He saw the way her muscles tensed when he stepped towards her, how one foot slid closer to the door.

"Thank you, Agent Shan," Zolah began, her hand sliding up the wall to the controls. Her voice took on a tight sound, one that Theron knew all too well. Her expression became serious. "This is the point where we wish each other well, then hope to never see one another again."

Theron tried to grab her sleeve, but Zolah slipped away before he found purchase, vanishing without the knowledge that he didn't intend to include  _any_  of this in his report. It was a strange feeling, knowing that he'd take Cipher Nine's name to his grave, even if he couldn't explain why. Theron ran a hand through his hair. "Kriff." He punched the bulkhead for good measure, then resigned himself to the fate that awaited him aboard the Brentaal Star. There was nothing he could do about Zolah Holran now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theron and Zolah's little rendezvous was written to Complicated by Fitz & the Tantrums. I really love that song.


	56. Epilogue

 

**The Thunderclap  
** **862 Days After Ord Mantell**

" _Vitiate is not our Emperor," Lana spat, her face contorting in anger. The Sith's normally golden eyes burned fiery red in the reflection of her ignited blade. Fynta stumbled over Jorgan's body, landing hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs. Lana raised the lightsaber for the killing blow, then paused._

" _ **No.**_ _" The voice came out of the Sith, but it wasn't hers. This one resonated through Fynta's body, pinning her on the spot. "_ _ **When I am finished here—when every life on this world has been exhausted—I want you to live. To know that I succeeded. Then, after I've bathed the galaxy in blood, I'll come for you**_ _."_

_The scene shifted, and Fynta found herself standing on the space station above Ziost, watching the survivors search for their loved ones. The wounded spilled into the main viewing area from the medcenter. Vitiate's words still rang in her ears, but there was nothing left to do now that he'd departed for parts unknown._

_A woman gasped and dropped a box to Fynta's right. She stared out the viewport with a hand covering her mouth, and Fynta's stomach rolled as her feet carried her unwillingly to the window. This felt familiar, and her mind screamed to stop, to look away, but she couldn't. Outside sat Ziost, just as grey and dreary from up here as it had been on the surface. Then, Fynta saw the reason for the woman's tears._

_A wave of dust swept across the surface, massive enough to be seen from orbit. It started at the planet's northern pole and expanded outward, consuming everything in its path. Jedi and Sith alike began to scream, some collapsing, while others stood frozen in horror. The phenomenon had nearly reached the equator before Fynta realized what the dust was. The physical incarnation of death._

_People, animals, plant life, even the shabbing atmosphere, reduced to atoms as she watched. Fynta swallowed past the lump in her throat, Vitiate's laughter so loud that blood dripped from her ears. He'd done exactly what he promised to. He'd wiped out all life on Ziost, just to prove to her he could. Fynta's legs buckled and she fell to her knees, staring at the drab, brown planet. Who knew that grey contained so much life?_

Fynta sat straight up in bed, blaster in hand. Her heart pounded as she gasped for breath. It took a few moments to reorient herself with the fact that she was safe aboard the Thunderclap. She dropped the weapon and rubbed both hands down her face.

"Ziost again?" The voice came from the desk chair where Aric sat, scanning his datapad. He met Fynta's eyes, then nodded towards the Verpine at her side. He'd made her unload it every night before bed since visiting that accursed planet.

Fynta took a deep breath. "You too?"

Aric sighed, turning his eyes back to reading. Fynta wondered what the Cathar found so calming within his datapad, and if he'd share if she asked. "Understandable," he commented after a while. "Ziost was a cluster fuck on a grand scale."

Fynta winced. Apart from calling her a  _damn nuisance_  from time to time, Aric generally kept such curses for heavy combat situations. He'd never spoken of the millions of deaths they'd witnessed, and, apart from a few quiet whimpers in his sleep, Fynta wasn't sure if he shared her nightmares. Then again, the Cathar hardly closed his eyes anymore.

Untangling herself from the blankets, Fynta crawled to the edge of the bed and put a hand on Jorgan's thigh. "Hey." He looked up, and she offered a half smile when she asked again. "You too?"

Aric dropped the datapad on the desk and folded his hands over Fynta's. "We're out here searching for a deity that can eat planets." His eyes hardened. "We aren't even Force sensitives, what does the galaxy expect  _us_  to do about it?"

Fynta had wondered that more than once. "We find allies."

Jorgan snorted and looked at the door where the rest of Havoc slept. They'd been alone on Ziost while the others ran errands for Saresh and her diplomats. The remainder of the squad hadn't seen what Vitiate was capable of until well after the fact. "Like Lana and Theron?" Jorgan continued with a shake of his head. "That's not enough."

Fynta reached for the datapad on the desk and keyed it open to find that Aric had been looking through travel brochures. She pretended not to notice and opened a new tab. "Darth Marr mentioned being interested in a team up again. Even if Saresh continues to drag her feet, we can find others who will join us."

Jorgan raised a brow, his lips pressing into a tight line. They'd argued about the merit of Imperial allies multiple times, and neither were willing to change their stance so far. Even so, Fynta persisted. "We aren't just Republic soldiers, anymore, Aric. You and I killed that Monolith under a  _Sith's_  guidance. We fought side by side with  _Imperial Intelligence_ , made allies with bounty hunters and Jedi alike. No matter what the Chancellor says, we are facing a larger threat than Imperial rule." She paused to bring up a picture of a Republic planet before showing it to her husband. "What if Vitiate targets Rendili next?"

The Cathar growled. "That's below the belt."

"No, it's the reality we face." Fynta put the device aside and looked Jorgan in the eye. "Whether it be Coruscant or Dromund Kaas. The more he kills, the stronger he becomes. It's our job to keep that from happening."

"Because Lana said you'd been chosen?" Aric crossed his arms and rocked the chair side to side, something he often did when pacing wasn't an option.

Fynta steeled her voice when she answered. "No, because it's the right thing to do. It's our job as soldiers." She'd clearly hit a nerve, because Aric's eyes snapped to hers, his glare gradually softening as her words sank in.

With a sigh, Jorgan crawled onto the bed beside Fynta and pulled her back with him. "Just promise me you won't do anything stupid."

Fynta chuckled and patted his arm. "As long as you promise to keep watching my back."

**The Red Blade**

Vector watched his wife mill around the ship, checking diagnostic scans that he saw no reason to run. Her aura had changed after Yavin. At first, he'd attributed it to the stress of the emperor's escape, or perhaps her annoyance with what amounted to a failed mission. However, it had only grown stronger over the last month, and it concerned Vector. He'd always seen his wife in shades of deep red with vibrant sparks of orange that glowed like a sunrise. Now, angry blues and frustrated greys wove throughout, warning of a coming storm. He'd seen these colors once before.

Zolah's moods shifted with increasing ferocity, not unlike when she'd been under the effects of the Castillan Restraints. However, her resonance had been muted then, now it blazed brightly, flaring into anger more often than not. That rage colored her aura at the moment, and she pressed her lips in a thin line, fingers flexing around the casing of her datapad. Zolah muttered a curse, practiced some deliberate breathing, then resumed her task without comment.

Finally, Vector decided that he'd waited long enough for her candor. Slipping around the pile of crates that she'd moved four times and still seemed dissatisfied with their placement, he touched her shoulder. "Beloved?" He paused when she jumped, arching an eyebrow at her reaction. "We couldn't help but notice that you've been—" Vector cut the sentence off to gently pry the datapad from her hands.

Zolah relinquished the device with a string of helpful words to fill in the blank. "An idiot, a fool, a moron, a complete and total rookie who should be immediately sent back to training."

Vector hid his smile by turning to lay the datapad aside. "We were going to say  _distracted_." Zolah huffed and crossed her arms when he faced her again, red eyes narrowed and jaw working furiously. "Would you care to unburden your anger?" He asked tactfully. Surely, she knew that after such an outburst he would not be able to let the matter drop.

The Chiss threw her hands up and stomped in a compact circle as if she couldn't decide which direction she wanted to go. Eventually, Zolah settled into her original spot. "I should have stayed with you, Vector. On Yavin. I shouldn't have gone to that damn meeting with Theron."

At first, Zolah's admission surprised Vector. They'd agreed that she must continue her work, and he would stay behind to collect himself after the battle. Ashara had been kind and understanding, offering him a quiet peace while his mind buzzed with the deaths of so many. Vector realized that his wife was far too pragmatic to be angry with herself for not remaining by his side. In any case, that would have incurred feelings of guilt, not wrath. Another thought raced through his mind, one that instantly tightened Vector's chest in anger. "Did he hurt you?"

Zolah had been vague on the details of her dalliance with the Republic SIS agent, and Vector had respected her privacy. While they remained honest with one another, she was in no way obligated to share with him the details of her affair. If Agent Shan had abused his wife in some manner, Vector would be sure to visit recompense.

"No," Zolah sighed and covered her face with her hands. "He was a perfect gentleman." Vector waited patiently, though it took some effort not to prod for more information. Were he any less skilled of a diplomat, his resolve would have broken long before she spoke again. "I told him my name."

His wife's confession rendered Vector momentarily speechless. "You—what?"

Zolah groaned into her palms. Vector knew how closely she guarded that secret. How she valued the ability to slip into any persona she wanted, but saved her true name for only those she trusted implicitly. As far as Vector knew, only he and the Rakton family knew of it. And now, Zolah had added a Republic spy to that short list.

Vector gripped his wife's shoulders in an effort to force her to look at him. "Why?" Concern pushed him towards a state of near action. He felt that he needed to do something,  _anything_ to ensure her safety.

"It slipped out," Zolah admitted. "He's a talented lover."

Vector puffed out the breath he'd been holding. Zolah had a penchant for talking during sex, although it had never been an issue on the job. His wife became someone else while she worked, focused on gaining intel or completing her mission. When she let her guard down, she had a tendency to direct the course of their lovemaking with intimate details. Vector had found this quirk endearing mostly, as he had no intention of betraying her trust.

When Vector remet Zolah's solid, red eyes, he saw panic rising behind them. "What have I done?"

The desire to settle his wife's nerves took precedence over any fear Vector felt. Rubbing Zolah's arms, he smiled. "You wouldn't have let it slip if you weren't sure about Theron." He trusted Zolah's ability to read people. Surely, she wouldn't have let herself get carried away if she hadn't decided that Theron Shan was trustworthy on some level . After all, Zolah had returned without him, indicating that she had changed her mind about kidnapping the prized SIS Agent.

"My name hasn't appeared on any of the Republic channels we monitor," Zolah confirmed, though hesitantly. As if she dared not hope that Theron would be honorable, putting her well being above his job. If the Republic had her birth name, there was no end to the damage they could do to her reputation. The fact that the repercussions hadn't started even after a month's time was a good indication that Theron hadn't shared the information.

"Neither has his in Imperial space," Vector added. Zolah offered an almost sheepish grin, an unfamiliar expression on her stern features. He'd watched to see if either Zolah or Lana would turn Theron's personal information: His previous exploits within the Empire, the truth of his parentage, or his current location, over to the Empire. But, both women appeared disinterested in outing their Republic ally.

"We will help you watch, and hope that there is no need for worry," Vector smiled, giving her shoulders a light squeeze. "You mustn't keep such things to yourself. We are here to help in  _all_  matters."

Zolah threw her arms around Vector's neck, and the Joiner embraced his wife. All the while contingency plans formed in the back of his mind should Theron prove not to be the man Vector hoped him to be. Perhaps he should open a line of communication with the SIS agent once they reached Dromund Kaas, just to be certain of Theron's intentions concerning his wife.

**Coruscant  
** **Jedi Enclave of Healing**

Theron sat in the gardens of the Jedi medical center, mulling over his notes from Ziost. Director Trant had once again kept Theron's ass out of prison, though administrative leave didn't feel much different. He'd spent his time checking up on the surviving members of the Sixth Line, more importantly, Master Surro. At least Fynta hadn't agreed to let Lana dissect the woman's brain. Still, he'd screwed up by sending them to the Imperial planet alone. In hindsight, Lana probably should have been his first call, followed by Fynta. Maybe then they could have worked together sooner and saved a lot of lives.

"Guilt will get you nowhere, Agent Shan." The thick, appealing accent startled him from his thoughts.

Theron looked up to find Master Kaeto Vaa standing over him, arm still held in a sling, but the brace missing from her leg today. The knot in Theron's chest loosened slightly at the knowledge that at least  _one_  of his Jedi was healing. The Togruta had joined the Sixth Line against the council's wish. Theron had a full roster already when the Hero of Tython approached him, but he couldn't possibly pass up such a seasoned warrior in the face of the unknown. It wasn't until later, when Satele called him into a private, but formal meeting, that he learned the reason behind the council's verdict.

"You look well, Master Vaa," Theron responded, ignoring her advice about guilt.

According to Theron's mother, Master Vaa had suffered greatly at the hands of the Emperor, and they'd denied her request to join due to the vengeance in her heart. To be honest, vengeance was an old friend of Theron's. It helped get the job done when things got hard, and he saw nothing wrong with it. Satele had pursed her lips when he voiced these thoughts, leading Theron to believe that he'd once again disappointed his absentee of a mother.

Theron imagined if anyone had reason to understand his feelings on the Ziost mission, it would be the Jedi before him. The Sith Emperor had nearly destroyed Kaeto, and she'd seen taking out Revan as her second chance. When that failed, she'd sought out the means to confront the ancient Sith personally through Theron's Sixth Line. Unfortunately, it hadn't worked out well for either of them.

The Togruta sat beside Theron and stared out over the artificial garden. Her golden skin complemented the stark white of her lekku. There was something classically beautiful about all Togruta, male or female, in Theron's opinion. Kaeto tipped her face into the sun and took a deep breath. "We are much like these plants, are we not?" He raised an eyebrow, and she smiled, rubbing a deep blue pedal between her fingers. "We live such vibrant lives, leaving our mark on the galaxy, but who will truly miss us when we are gone?"

"You've still got a few fans left," Theron remarked dryly. He'd pretty much burned every bridge on his quest to destroy a monster that he couldn't fathom. Had his pride over their victory on Yavin gotten the better of him, or was it simply that no one else seemed to take the threat seriously, and  _someone_  needed to act?

Kaeto looked wistfully towards the sky. "Perhaps." Before Theron could ask for further explanation, the woman stood and dusted off her robes, a modest brown, nothing like the revealing halter and pants she usually wore. Theron felt that change was important somehow. "I think I'll meditate a while longer. Will I see you tomorrow, Agent Shan?"

"Maybe," Theron replied. "Master Surro still hasn't recovered enough to return to Tython, I'd like to make sure she's alright before going back to work." Not that he got a choice in the matter. Director Trant and Saresh had used the word  _indefinitely_ , which never bode well for a spy. Especially one who'd outed himself so publically. A shining career of infiltration and high value targets disappeared down the drain with one stupid call.

"Take it from someone who knows. Let this go, and move on with your life." Kaeto bowed at the waist, her tattooed lekku slipping over to dangle before him. She offered a sharp-toothed smile that spoke of anything except giving up, before ambling off.

Theron tried to take the Jedi's advice regardless, but it was no easy task. He got the impression that Kaeto hadn't mastered it either, and had taken her defeat on Ziost personally. Theron considered her part in it all the way back to his apartment. Kaeto Vaa had witnessed the horrors of Ziost through unfiltered senses, and she'd fought to protect Imperial citizens from her fellow Jedi. Theron wondered if the Togruta's time in the Emperor's service had somehow offered a kind of immunity to the mind control, and if that was something they could exploit for the next time.

"Next time," Theron grumbled to his dark apartment as he unloaded his pockets on the counter. As if Director Trant would let him off planet any time soon.

After a shower and meager dinner that consisted mostly of scotch, Theron settled onto his sofa to go over a few messages. One in particular intrigued him. The contact was routed through four different sectors, and that was  _after_  he decrypted the original address. It contained nothing more than a holo frequency, but Theron was certain he knew who the message was from. His heart beat unnaturally fast when the line rang. It was hard to say if he hoped for an answer or not.

The man who appeared on the image wore a fine waistcoat and had handsome, sharp features. "Ah, Agent Shan, we rather expected your call sooner."

"Sorry, been a bit busy, how are things?" Theron still couldn't believe that his life had reached the point of exchanging pleasantries with an Imperial spy. The last time he'd seen this one in particular, they'd shared a drink the night before going after Revan. That was before having a fling with the man's wife. It still confused the hell out of Theron.

Vector looked over his shoulder before answering Theron's question. "There is a matter of importance that we must speak about." Theron waited in silence while Vector moved somewhere more secure. "Our wife told us that she divulged her true name to you . . . we trust that you've handled this information with care?"

_Zola'hes'naru_. Theron still felt her breath against his ear, and filed the memory away for later use. The Chiss had fled before Theron could offer any assurances that he'd keep the secret between them. He supposed it shouldn't surprise him that Zolah had run to Vector, and that now Vector wanted to ensure his wife's safety.

"I didn't put it into the report, if that's what you mean." Theron had thought of that name daily, though he never dared to speak it out loud. Even on Ziost, as stupid as it had been, he'd hoped to see the Imperial spies again. Vector had become just as much a part of Zolah's identity as the fact that she was Chiss. Theron would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that running across the Joiner would have been just as much of a relief.

Vector nodded and crossed his arms. "Having multiple names allows our wife to walk in many circles. I'm sure you appreciate how important this is in our line of work." Theron wondered how Vector managed to stay by her side. Being a Joiner made him stand out, but Theron got the impression that he was an ever present source of aid.

"I have no intention of telling anyone who Cipher Nine is, any of her names," Theron assured the man. "Is she there?"

Vector shook his head. "She was summoned to a meeting. We should return, but we wanted to take this call. It has been much anticipated." Disappointment wormed through Theron, though he assured the man that he understood. Vector hesitated. "We heard rumors of your involvement on Ziost. How are you?"

Theron shrugged. He had talked with Kaeto about the experience briefly, but neither had much to say on it. Trant had offered counseling, and Theron said he'd think about it, though he had no intention of actually letting someone inside his head. Vector took Theron's silence without comment, no doubt being used to such answers given who he'd married.

"You contacted us from a disposable holo, yes?" Theron nodded. He wasn't stupid enough to contact Imperial agents through official channels, no matter what his file said. "Then, we shall keep this, should you need to reach us in case of emergency. Take care of yourself, Theron."

The holo disappeared, shrouding Theron in darkness again. Sighing, he looked around, trying to decide what to do next. He wondered if that holo frequency had a text option, and if so, how weird it would be to contact them again. Groaning, Theron dropped the datapad, coming to terms with the fact that his life was a kriffing mess.

**Dromund Kaas**

Zolah watched Lana carefully. The Sith had always been focused, but her current state bordered on obsessive. As an expert on such, Zolah felt confident that she could recognize the signs. Tentatively, she took a step closer. "Lana, when was the last time you slept?" The Sith glared up from her datapad. "Or perhaps ate?"

Instead of snapping, Lana heaved a sigh and rubbed her temples. "There isn't time," she growled. "Vitiate is loose, and there is no telling where he will strike next. We got lucky last time."

"So I've heard." Zolah had been away on another assignment when Ziost came under attack. By the time she and Vector had arrived on the scene, the clean up crew had already landed. The damage was staggering, worse even than the aftermath of the Eradicators. Seeing the look on Vector's face had stirred pity inside her. Not for those who'd died, but for the ones who survived.

Lana hadn't spoken of it, but the dark bags under her eyes were testament to the nightmares that haunted her. Zolah had asked Vector what it had felt like on Yavin, but she knew that Ziost must have been compounded a thousand fold for someone as in tune with the Force as Lana. She's shielded her husband from the destruction she wrought upon her own people in order to kill Jadus, so thankfully, he was not haunted by those deaths.

When it became apparent that Lana had no more information, Zolah excused herself. "I'll leave you to it, Minister. Contact me if you find anything significant." The blond woman nodded, and Zolah slid the door shut behind her.

Vector rounded the corner as Zolah exited the office. "Who was that?" She asked. He'd stepped out to answer a priority call, though she hadn't been aware that they were expecting one. Naturally, she'd assumed it had something to do with the Killiks.

"We were seeing to a potential complication." Vector kept his eyes forward while they walked through the Sith Sanctum towards the speeders. "We are confident there will be no more cause for concern."

Zolah knew a cryptic answer when she heard one, and let it rest until they reached the ship. As soon as the airlock closed behind them, she rounded on her husband. "Which complication?" There were so many to choose from these days.

"Theron Shan," Vector answered simply. Zolah's breath caught, and it took a few seconds before she could regain it. She'd been stupid, how could she give him her birth name? The worst part was that Zolah didn't even remember doing it. She'd given the Republic agent too much control over her, and now she'd pay the price.

Even through the fear, Zolah dreaded asking Vector for clarification on how he handled the threat. "Is he dead?" She asked, swallowing to control the pitch of her voice. It was foolish to concern herself so much over an enemy. That's what Theron was, right? Republic SIS, the enemy.

Vector's eyebrows drew together, and Zolah felt a weight lift from her shoulders even before he answered. "Of course not," her husband almost snorted, though that was a bit blase for the diplomat. "We simply asked him about his intentions, and explained that there would be consequences should he feel the need to leak sensitive information to the wrong people."

Laughter bubbled up Zolah's throat, and she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle it. Vector had done it again. He'd used words instead of violence to cowl someone who he viewed as a threat. She would never understand how he accomplished such feats.

Vector took Zolah's hands, rubbing his thumbs over her palms as he stared at them. "Although, we do not believe there was cause for fear to begin with. Theron appeared quite distressed by the method of your departure." Solid, black eyes rose to meet hers. "He says to tell you hello."

"How did we get to this point, Vector," Zolah asked. She should have killed Fynta Wolfe by now. Or, at the very least, made good on her plan to abduct Theron once the truce ended. Instead, she'd told a Republic SIS agent her real name, then condemned herself to suffering the consequences alone until Vector pried the information out of her with patient skill. He'd soothed her panic and assured her that Theron would be honorable. However, to find out now that he'd harbored his own fears without her knowledge filled her with guilt.

Looking into Vector's kind face, Zolah resolved to finally be worthy of him. She'd work to become the woman he thought her to be. Vector smiled as if he could read her thoughts and kissed her forehead before answering her question. "We entered into an alliance with some truly remarkable people."

**The Thunderclap**

Cormac reclined in one of the chairs in the main room, watching Elara through the doorway leading into the medbay. He'd made himself scarce when she started muttering, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy observing while she worked. Even after years together, Balic found his wife fascinating. She soaked up knowledge like a sponge, and he couldn't help but imagine more each day what a great mother she'd make.

Movement caught Balic's attention just before the major swung into the chair beside him. Fynta propped an elbow on one knee, then rested her chin in her hand. "You're staring," she commented, watching Elara too.

"So are you," Cormac countered, stretching to clasp his fingers behind his head. "Where's Jorgan?"

"Napping," Fynta responded. "I'm bored."

Cormac chuckled, though it felt empty. He'd read the reports on Ziost and knew how terrified Elara was of those events repeating. She'd worked around the clock with Yuun, searching for some pattern that would lead to the emperor's whereabouts. When they hit a dead end, the two brains tossed ideas back and forth on how to kill the shabuir once they found him. So far, nothing stuck.

Part of Cormac wished he'd been on Ziost to back his commanders up. They'd both looked like death warmed over when Havoc finally coalesced on the Thunderclap again. He knew neither of them slept well, and he couldn't help all of the  _what if_ scenarios that ran through his mind. If they'd boarded that shuttle just thirty minutes later, SpecForce would be interviewing for new commanders, and Cormac would be down his two closest friends.

"She's going to run herself into the ground," Fynta mumbled, fingers pressed against her lips.

"Probably," Cormac replied. He knew better than to get between Elara and her research. "Eventually, she'll pass out, then I'll carry her to bed. Kind of like you and Jorgan." He didn't meet Fynta's gaze when her head turned towards him.

Cormac expected some speech about how she was fine, or maybe a smart assed remark about being invincible. What he hadn't planned for, was the pointed jab to the ticklish spot in his ribs that nearly launched him out of the chair. Fynta grinned, the same mischievous expression he'd seen for years.

Cormac settled back into his chair, keeping a wary eye on his commander. They sat in silence, which he hated. The quiet let the thoughts that he'd buried long ago creep back to the surface. "Wanna' talk about it?" Fynta asked at last, chin still propped in her hand. When Cormac squeezed his lips tighter, she sighed. "Verin's okay, you know that, right?"

Taking a deep breath, Cormac dropped his hands into his lap. "I wish I could make it right, somehow."

"We've all lost men on a mission before. Friends and family," Fynta continued, still watching Elara to avoid pinning Balic down. "It's part of the job. Verin knows that better than anyone. Cinlat did too."

"It's not that," Cormac countered, then winced when Fynta turned an upraised eyebrow on him. He'd bumbled right into her trap, and now she wasn't going to let up until he spilled all of his secrets. Balic knew better than to resist the eyebrow.

Cormac gathered his thoughts while Fynta waited in silence. She'd joked that Cinlat had taught her more about interrogation than the SIS ever could, and having met the famed hunter, he didn't doubt it. "You know I had a little brother, yeah?" Fynta nodded. "Our mom was a Spicehead, and who knows where the sperm donor went. It was always me and Duke against the world, except he didn't inherit my charm or physique. So, throughout a lot of our childhood it felt like me, dragging my kid brother, as we  _ran_  from the world."

Fynta nodded again. They shared a similar experience, even if the circumstances leading up to it were vastly different. She saw thing's more from Duke's viewpoint, being the sibling hauled around by an older brother until she was old enough to make it on her own. Cormac worked at popping his knuckles for a distraction while he continued. "Duke did one thing well. That scrawny kid knew how to get into trouble. By the time he reached thirteen, he'd spent more time in lockup than most of the members of our gang. When he hit sixteen, I told him I was done, and he could get his own shit in order after that."

"That's when he joined up, isn't it?" Fynta interjected, and Balic tipped his head. He'd shared tidbits of information about his baby brother over the years, but it had always been such a sore subject that he usually steered the conversation towards the funnier moments.

"He joined the Alderannian Reservists the next week, met himself a decent bloke, and settled into life." Cormac smiled at the memory. He'd never seen his brother grin as much as he did the day he brought Gav over for dinner.

Fynta touched Cormac's arm, startling him from the memory. "What happened?"

"Spice is a tough drug to kick, and Alderaan had a steady stream of smugglers willing to transport the stuff after we pulled out of the Republic," Balic explained. "Regulations became more difficult to enforce, and it was like open season for all the despots in the galaxy. Duke slipped back into the habit a few years later, a lot harder than when he was a kid."

Cormac felt his throat tighten as old emotions welled inside him. Images from more than a decade past overlapped with the fresher pain of losing Cinlat on Yavin. "He got into debt with some disreputable people and used my account to get out of it. Only, it wasn't enough."

"They tracked the funds back to you, didn't they?" Fynta guessed, her voice colder than it had been before. When Balic nodded, and she snorted with contempt. "Cinlat taught me how to do that for clients who decided to skip out on what they owed us for a job."

"Lucky for me it wasn't you lot that got hired to jump me in an alley. Otherwise, we might not be friends." Cormac nudged Fynta's shoulder with forced humor, and she replied in kind. "Anyway, I went straight to Duke, showed him my black eye, and yelled a lot of not so brotherly things. I told him I was done cleaning up his messes. Don't call, don't write; I didn't need him screwing my life as badly as he had his own."

Cormac slipped into silence. He watched Elara move around the medbay, smiling when her eyebrows shot up, and she hurried out of sight to test some new hypotheses. Seeing her work so hard gave Balic a sense of normalcy. Even though everything outside of the ship was going to hell, in the Thunderclap, things were okay.

"Duke didn't die in combat, did he?" Fynta asked, her voice little more than a whisper.

Cormac shook his head. "Turns out, my little brother wanted to do the right thing. He confronted the bounty hunters without backup, to prove that he wasn't useless." Familiar grief washed over Balic, and he let it. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to be transported back to that night. The knock on the door, the anguish and fury on Gav's face, and the hollow, gut-wrenching feeling that Balic had abandoned his brother the same way their mother had.

Cormac remembered opening the front door and feeling like a rancor had slugged him. When he recovered, Gav stood over him with bloody knuckles, screaming obscenities. Cormac hadn't been able to focus on the words, only the thought that one thing alone could have pushed this normally calm man to such bouts of hysterics.

Cormac squeezed his eyes shut. "They left him to bleed out in the street. He'd been dead for hours by the time news got to me. I think Gav would have gladly beat the hell out of me if I hadn't been twice his size, and I wouldn't have blamed him."

"Shab, I'm sorry, Cormac." Fynta moved to sit on the arm of Balic's chair and planted a kiss on top of his bald head. "You expected a similar reaction out of Verin." It wasn't a question, and Balic winced when Fynta's arms folded around his neck. His voice cracked ever so slightly when he answered.

"Don't think I didn't notice the matching bruises you and Verin came back with on Yavin." Cormac cleared his throat. "Those punches were meant for me, not you, boss."

Fynta pulled back, and when Balic refused to meet her eyes, she grabbed his chin to force him to look at her. "That had nothing to do with you, vod. It's a complicated Mandalorian thing. Verin  _wouldn't_  have hit you, he loves you like a brother." Cormac felt his eyebrows raise at the implications of her words. Fynta caught on and smiled. "But, I'm his sister by blood, and we've gone through a lot of tragedy together. We know how to push each other's buttons.  _I_  went looking for a fight, not Verin."

Cormac took a moment to process this new information, and wondered why it made such a difference knowing that Fynta had goaded Verin, not been attacked on sight. They were both important to him, hell, she was Balic's best friend. Still, the awareness that she'd gained those wounds intentionally somehow lifted a weight from him.

"You're a damn fool, boss," Cormac finally replied, patting her knee. "But, I love you anyway."

Fynta grinned and slid back into her chair to resume watching Elara when the medic reappeared in the main room to fiddle with the controls on the holoprojector. She didn't appear to notice either of her comrades, and they saw no need to disturb her. Fynta leaned over the arm of her chair and lowered her voice to avoid distracting the singularly focused medic. "You're a good man, Balic. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Cormac settled into his seat, arms folded behind his head again, and cast Fynta a sly grin. "I'll try not to let that go to my head."

"No worries," Fynta commented, matching his posture while her eyes trailed Elara around the room. Her lips twitched at the sides when she followed it up with, "I'll always be around to kick the osik out of you if it does."

* * *

Fynta rubbed Cormac's head for luck before pushing out of the chair. Their emotional chat highlighted Fynta's exhaustion, and there really wasn't anything for her to do. She might as well try for another attempt at sleep. Casting Dorne an amused look, she thumbed for Cormac to keep an eye on their emperor obsessed medic and smiled at his returned signal of confirmation. The big man's shoulders looked less tense, and Fynta hoped that she'd eased some of his guilt over Cinlat's death. These sort of wound took time to heal, but she'd help in whatever way she could.

At the last minute, Fynta turned towards the barracks instead of her personal quarters to check in with the rest of the squad. Yuun rested peacefully in his quarters, the dull buzz of meditation droning through the door when she stopped outside. Fynta watched for a moment, then decided to leave the Gand to do his Findsman thing in solitude.

Vik wasn't hard to find, Fynta just had to follow the smell of accelerant and cheap alcohol to the kitchen. The Weequay lifted a bottle in salute, and Fynta snatched it from his grubby fingers to knock back a larger mouthful than she'd intended. Vik chuckled when she handed it back, though it took all of her stubborn pride not to gag.

"See, now  _that's_  how you drink. Should give that uptight furball a few lessons, boss." Fynta rolled her eyes and left the Weequay to his ritual. She'd given him permission to smuggle that swill aboard the ship so long as it didn't interfere with their job. Surprisingly, Vik had held up his part of the bargain, so far.

Yawning, Fynta finally dragged herself back to the room where she'd left Aric and palmed open the door. Light flooded in from the main room, stopping short of illuminating the Cathar's face. Fynta heard the familiar rumblings of another nightmare as her husband shifted uneasily in his sleep. She wondered how long Ziost would plague them, and where Vitiate was. His silence troubled her more than the bad dreams, mostly because he wasn't something she could shoot. The Sith Emperor was entirely unknown to everyone.

Locking the door behind her, Fynta shed her clothes and slid under the blanket next to Jorgan. She ran her nails over the Cathar's scalp until his breathing took on a steady pattern, then curled against his warmth. He responded by flopping a heavy arm across her body and dragging her into a crushing embrace. Once she'd wiggled into a comfortable position within the confines of his grasp, Fynta sighed happily, letting his body heat leech some of the soreness from her artificial hip. Strategy and contingency plans threatened to crowd her mind, but Fynta pushed them back and clung stubbornly to the indomitableness of her aliit. They'd figure something out. Eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for joining me on this wild ride. This is the final chapter of Family Is More Than Blood, but, I plan to continue the story into KotFE with Heart On A Trigger. Which I will be posting immediately after closing out this story.
> 
> Once again, thank you for all the favorites, kudos, comments, and messages. And a special shout out to Dimigex and Kage69 for helping me catch as many blunders as possible, and generally making this story better.
> 
> You can also follow me on Tumblr.


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